MAROON 
IN  MOSCOW 


M^ 


MARGUERITE  E.HARRISO 


LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 


PRESENTED  BY 
MR.&   MRS.    GODWIN   J.PELISSERO 


MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

MARGUERITE  E.  HARRISON 


Fkuto  by  Jeamie  E.  Bennett,  Baltimore,  Md. 


MARGUERITE   E.    HARRISON 


MAROONED 
IN     MOSCOW 

THE  STORY  OF  AN  AMERICAN  WOMAN 
IMPRISONED  IN  RUSSIA 


BY 

MARGUERITE  E.  HARRISON 


NEW  XBJr   YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,    T921, 
BY  GEORGE   H.   DORAN   COMPANY 


PRINTED   IN  THE   UNITED   STATES  OF   AMERICA 


FOREWORD 

In  the  early  part  of  February,  1920,  I  crossed  into  Russia 
through  the  Polish  Front,  as  correspondent  of  the  Baltimore 
Sim  and  the  Associated  Press,  intending  to  remain  for  six 
weeks.  I  stayed  for  eighteen  months,  ten  of  which  were  spent 
in  prison.  This  was  due  to  the  manner  in  which  I  entered  the 
country,  and  my  actions  while  there,  which  I  shall  describe 
fully  in  the  following  pages  telling  what  happened  to  me  as 
well  as  what  I  heard  and  saw  in  Russia.  My  treatment  while 
in  prison  was  no  different  from  that  accorded  any  other  pris- 
oners, native  or  foreign,  and  I  can  honestly  say  that  I  have 
come  through  it  all  with  absolutely  no  personal  bitterness  and 
with  what  I  believe  to  be  a  purely  impartial  view  of  conditions 
in  the  Soviet  Republic. 

My  account  of  my  experiences  is  written  entirely  from 
memory,  as  I  was  permitted  to  take  no  notes  out  of  the  country 
when  I  was  released  on  July  28,  upon  the  acceptance  by  the 
Soviet  government  of  the  terms  of  the  American  Relief 
Association  for  famine  relief  in  Russia,  which  was  made 
conditional  on  the  release  of  all  American  prisoners. 

Marguerite  E.  Harrison. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Foreword v 

CHAPTER 

I    Warsaw  to  No  Man's  Land     .....     .     .  ii 

II    A  Red  Army  Billet .  i8 

III  Work  and  Play  in  the  Red  Army  ......  2,y 

IV  A  Trip  in  a  Box  Car .  36 

V    An  Unwelcome  Guest 45 

VI    News  Gathering  in  Moscow .  52 

VII    The  Gods  and  Their  Machine 67 

VIII    The  Woman's  Part   ..........  78 

IX    Soviet  Weddings 86 

X    BouRjEoi 93 

XI    Under  Suspicion 106 

XII    Bureaus  and  Bureaucrats 118 

XIII  Ikons  and  Anti-Christ 130 

XIV  Radical  Anti-Reds 140 

XV      SOUKHAREVKA I50 

XVI    Moscow  Foyers  and  Salons  . 158 

XVII    A  Provincial  Junket 170 

XVIII    Pageants  and  Plots 180 

XIX    A  Modern  Babel .  188 

XX    Al  Fresco  Adventures 201 

XXI    The  Shadow  of  the  Checka    .....     .     .     .  209 

XXII    The  Trap  is  Sprung .;     ,  225 

XXIII  Odinochka 232 

XXIV  Close  Quarters 238 

vii 


Vlll 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXV    Prison  Holidays   .......:.,...  250 

XXVI    The  Mills  of  the  Gods  .     .     .;     .     .    .«    «    .     .  250 

XXVII    An  Attic  Cell „    ..,    .  271 

XXVIII    Wherein  a  Jailbird  Turns  Jailer  ..,..,.  281 

XXIX    Prison  de  Luxe .:     .  292 

XXX    Release  Number  2961 300 

Afterword 308 

Appendix 

the  RUSSIAN   socialist  FEDERAL  SOVIET  REPUBLIC    .  317 

COUNCIL  OF  people's  COMMISSARS 317 

SOCIALIST  PARTIES   IN   RUSSIA 320 

TRADES    UNIONS 322 

COOPERATIVES          .       .       .       ..      .       ..      .       .      i.;      .       .  322 


MAROONED 
IN    MOSCOW 

CHAPTER  I 
WARSAW  TO  NO  MAN'S  LAND 

To  get  into  any  country  by  the  back  door,  after  having 
been  refused  permission  to  come  in  by  the  front  way,  does  not 
sound  like  a  simple  thing  to  do,  yet,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I 
accomplished  the  feat  without  any  great  difficulty  in  February, 
1920,  when  I  entered  Soviet  Russia  from  Poland  while  a 
state  of  war  existed  between  the  two  nations.  My  method  was 
simplicity  itself — I  passed  through  the  Polish  lines  into  No 
Man's  Land,  and  gave  myself  up  to  the  first  Red  Army  patrol. 
By  this  means  I  succeeded  two  weeks  later  in  reaching  Mos- 
cow, where  I  stayed  for  eighteen  months,  during  which  I  was 
arrested  twice  by  the  Checka,  living  for  six  months  under 
surveillance  and  for  nearly  ten  in  prison. 

Under  the  circumstances  I  consider  that  I  fared  rather  well. 
If,  as  an  American  citizen,  I  had  tried  to  get  into  Germany 
through  the  front  lines  from  France  after  diplomatic  relations 
had  been  broken  off  between  the  United  States  and  that 
country,  I  doubt  if  I  would  have  been  as  lucky  with  either  the 
French  or  the  Boches,  for  I  would  have  run  a  pretty  good 
chance  of  being  taken  for  a  spy  by  both  sides. 

My  decision  to  get  into  Russia  by  the  underground  route 
was  reached  only  after  I  had  tried  and  failed  to  get  in  by 
legitimate  means.  I  had  been  in  Germany  as  the  correspondent 
of  the  Baltimore  Sun  during  the  six  months  of  readjustment 
and  revolution  immediately  following  the  Armistice,  and  there, 

II 


12  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

through  persons  identified  with  the  SociaHst  movement,  I  had 
heard  many  things,  which  made  me  reaHze  that  we,  in  Western 
countries,  knew  little  or  nothing  of  what  was  actually  hap- 
pening in  Soviet  Russia.  I  wanted  to  see  something  at  close 
range  of  the  great  social  experiment  of  the  Bolsheviks.  Con- 
sequently on  my  return  to  America  in  the  early  autumn  of 
1 9 19  I  applied  at  the  Martens  Bureau  in  New  York  for 
permission  to  enter  Russia  for  the  Baltinwre  Sun  of  which  I 
was  a  staff  correspondent,  the  A^^^t^  York  Evening  Post,  which 
had  given  me  credentials  as  occasional  traveling  correspondent, 
and  Underwood  &  Underwood,  for  whom  I  had  agreed  to 
take  pictures  in  Europe.  I  was  told  flatly  that  this  would  be 
impossible.  The  Soviet  government  at  that  time  was  not  en- 
couraging the  entrance  of  bourgeois  press  correspondents. 
It  was  felt  that  the  privileges  accorded  correspondents  in 
Russia  had  been  so  often  abused  by  deliberate  misstatements 
intended  to  further  anti-Bolshevik  propaganda  that,  with  few 
exceptions,  the  Foreign  Office  was  refusing  permission  to  the 
representatives  of  non-Socialist  papers.  I  was  even  warned 
that  it  would  be  extremely  unwise  for  me  to  attempt  to  get 
into  the  country. 

In  spite  of  this  fact  I  started  for  Europe  in  October  deter- 
mined to  try  my  luck.  In  London  I  had  a  conversation,  con- 
firmed later  in  writing,  with  Mr.  Collins,  European  manager 
of  the  Associated  Press,  who  had  agreed  to  accept  my  services 
as  Moscow  correspondent  should  I  succeed  in  entering  Russia. 
The  refusal  of  the  Martens  Bureau  closed  the  only  legitimate 
routes  through  Esthonia,  Finland  and  the  Soviet  courier  serv- 
ice via  Murmansk.  It  also  barred  me  from  applying  to  the 
only  other  agency  which  could  have  given  me  permission — 
Litvinov's  bureau  at  Copenhagen. 

There  remained  another  possibility — entrance  through  one 
of  the  countries  with  which  Soviet  Russia  was  then  at  war, 
Latvia,  Lithuania  or  Poland.  I  chose  the  last  named  route, 
not  because  it  was  the  easiest,  but  because  it  promised  the  most 
interesting  experiences,  and  laid  my  plans  accordingly.  I 
wish  to  emphasize  these  facts  because  they  had  an  important 
bearing  on  what  happened  to  me  later.     I  was  deliberately 


WARSAW  TO  NO  MAN'S  LAND        13 

taking  a  desperate  risk,  and  I  had  no  one  but  myself  to  blame 
for  the  consequences. 

I  arrived  in  Warsaw  in  December  with  no  very  definite 
plans  except  that  somehow  or  other  I  was  determined  to  get 
to  Russia.  At  that  time  I  spoke  very  little  Russian,  so  the 
first  thing  that  was  absolutely  essential  was  an  interpreter. 
It  was  necessary  to  find  someone  who  would  be  acceptable 
to  the  Bolsheviks  and  at  the  same  time  did  not  have  too  bad 
a  standing  with  the  Polish  authorities.  For  some  time  I 
failed  to  find  anyone  meeting  these  requirements.  Then  by 
chance  I  met  Doctor  Anna  Karlin,  She  was  a  Russian  who 
had  emigrated  to  the  United  States  some  ten  years  previously, 
had  taken  out  American  citizenship  papers,  and  lived  for  some 
time  in  Chicago,  where  she  was  identified  with  Socialist  activi- 
ties. At  the  beginning  of  the  revolution  she  had  gone  to  Russia 
via  Siberia  and  had  worked  for  a  year  as  a  Red  Army  phy- 
sician, being  assigned  to  duty  in  Galicia.  When  the  Poles 
occupied  this  territory  in  the  Autumn  of  1919  she  was  made 
a  prisoner,  but  as  she  claimed  American  citizenship  she  was 
allowed  to  go  unmolested  to  Warsaw.  For  some  months  she 
tried  to  obtain  an  American  passport,  but  without  success.  I 
found  her  out  of  work,  unable  to  return  to  the  United  States 
and  practically  destitute.  She  still  retained  her  Red  Army 
papers,  and  I  felt  that,  once  in  Russia,  she  would  be  able  to 
take  care  of  herself.  I  suggested  that  she  should  accompany 
me  to  Russia  as  an  interpreter.  She  agreed,  and  we  left  to- 
gether for  Minsk,  then  occupied  by  Polish  troops  in  command 
of  General  Jelikovski. 

My  first  difficulties  were  encountered  when  I  applied  for 
a  permit  for  her  to  leave  Warsaw.  As  a  Jewess,  and  as  a 
person  who  had  formerly  been  in  the  service  of  the  Red  Army, 
the  Polish  authorities  were  naturally  inclined  to  be  suspicious 
of  her,  and  it  took  me  some  time  to  obtain  the  necessary  papers. 
On  my  arrival  in  Minsk  I  called  on  General  Jelikovski,  ex- 
plained to  him  that  I  was  anxious  to  get  into  Soviet  Russia  and 
asked  for  a  safe  conduct  through  the  Polish  lines  on  that 
sector  of  the  Beresina  front.  I  was  met  with  a  point-blank 
refusal.    In  the  first  place,  the  general  told  me,  he  would  not 


14  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

be  responsible  for  my  personal  safety.  If  I  crossed  the  front 
in  that  manner  I  would  certainly  be  shot  as  a  spy  by  the  Bolshe- 
viks. In  addition  I  would  naturally  learn  much  about  the 
disposition  of  the  Polish  troops,  and  either  unwittingly,  or 
under  pressure,  I  might  give  valuable  information  to  the  Reds. 
As  for  taking  with  me  a  Jewish  woman,  who  had  been  with 
the  Red  Army  and  afterwards  lived  in  Warsaw,  that  was  ut- 
terly preposterous ! 

After  several  interviews  I  realized  that  General  Jelikovski 
knew  his  own  mind  and  that  it  was  impossible  to  do  anything 
with  him.  Meanwhile  I  had  made  many  acquaintances  in 
Minsk  among  the  Jews  who  were  bitterly  antagonistic  to  the 
Polish  occupation  on  account  of  the  unjust  persecutions  to 
which  they  were  subjected.  While  not  Communists  by  con- 
viction, most  of  them  secretly  sympathized  with  the  Bolshe- 
viks on  account  of  the  attitude  of  the  Poles.  As  Minsk  was 
formerly  a  Russian  province,  nearly  all  of  them  had  ties  con- 
necting them  with  Soviet  Russia.  There  was  a  flourishing  trade 
in  contraband  between  the  Jews  in  Minsk  and  their  co-reli- 
gionists in  Russia,  and  a  well  organized  underground  railroad 
of  communication  between  the  Russian  and  Polish  branches 
of  various  Jewish  benevolent  organizations  such  as  the  *'Oze" 
and  the  "Jdkopo."  Most  of  these  people  crossed  the  lines 
through  the  Beresina  sector,  because  it  was  the  least  guarded 
of  all  the  fronts  and  also  because  it  was  used  for  the  repatria- 
tion of  Germans,  and  for  exchange  of  hostages  between  the 
Poles  and  Russians.  For  this  purpose  a  sort  of  tacit  armistice 
had  been  established.  On  all  other  sectors  of  the  front  while 
there  was  no  actual  fighting  there  were  frequent  skirmishes 
and  to  cross  between  the  lines  was  much  more  difficult.  I  had 
determined  that  if  I  was  unsuccessful  in  getting  a  safe  con- 
duct from  the  military  authorities  I  would  throw  in  my  luck 
with  the  Jewish  contrabanders,  but  if  I  had  been  caught  this 
would  have  blocked  all  my  future  chances  of  getting  into 
Russia  through  Poland. 

I  had  heard  that  General  Szeptitzki,  who  was  In  command 
of  the  Vilna  sector,  was  a  much  more  approachable  person.  I 
therefore  determined  to  go  to  Vilna  and  try  to  get  a  permit 


WARSAW  TO  NO  MAN'S  LAND         15 

from  him.  So,  leaving  Dr.  Karlin  at  Minsk  I  started  for 
Vilna.  At  that  time  travel  in  eastern  Poland  was  anything 
but  luxurious.  I  made  the  trip  from  Minsk  to  Vilna  in  a 
fourth-class  car,  packed  with  Polish  soldiers  and  a  large  convoy 
of  Bolshevik  prisoners.  The  trip,  which  in  normal  times  is  a 
matter  of  three  hours  or  so,  took  us  just  twenty- two  hours, 
owing  to  the  sabotage  of  the  railroad  emplo3^ees,  all  of  whom 
were  White  Russians  and  bitterly  antagonistic  to  the  Polish 
occupation.  At  Moledechno,  midway  between  Minsk  and 
Vilna,  the  engine  crew  struck  and  we  were  held  up  for  four 
or  five  hours  while  the  Polish  officers  in  command  of  the 
train  tried  in  vain  to  secure  another  crew.  Finally  they 
collected  a  purse  of  two  thousand  marks  and  presented  it  to 
the  strikers,  upon  which  they  condescended  to  take  us  to  Vilna. 

Some  days  after  my  arrival  I  had  an  interview  with  General 
Szeptitzki,  and  told  him  what  I  had  in  mind.  At  first  he 
emphatically  refused,  but  I  finally  succeeded  in  persuading 
him  to  give  me  a  safe  conduct  through  the  Polish  lines.  Armed 
with  this  I  returned  to  Minsk  determined  to  give  the  slip  to 
General  Jelikovski  and  cross  through  his  sector.  The  best 
route  was  from  Minsk  through  Smolovichi  to  Borisov.  There 
I  had  Jewish  friends  who  were  in  constant  communication 
with  persons  across  the  border  and  they  would  be  able  to  give 
me  letters  of  introduction  which  would  help  me  considerably 
in  Russia.  I  calculated  that  once  on  the  front  a  permit  from 
General  Szeptitzki,  who  was  well  known  and  much  loved 
throughout  the  entire  army,  would  be  sufficient  to  induce  the 
officer  in  command  of  the  front  line  troops  to  pass  me  through 
unless  he  received  orders  from  Minsk  to  the  contrary.  So 
as  a  military  permit  was  necessary  to  travel  on  the  train  to 
Borisov  we  left  Minsk  early  one  morning  in  a  sleigh  furnished 
us  by  Jewish  contrabanders.  We  covered  the  one  hundred 
and  twenty  versts  to  Borisov  in  a  day,  arriving  late  at  night 
by  a  circuitous  route,  so  that  we  would  not  be  challenged  by 
Polish  sentries. 

The  next  morning  I  interviewed  the  commanding  officer, 
showed  my  permit  from  General  Szeptitzki,  carefully  conceal- 
ing the  fact  that  I  had  come  from  Minsk  and  it  was  arranged 


16  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

that  I  should  be  conducted  through  the  front  lines  on  the 
following  day. 

Having  accomplished  this  much,  my  only  anxiety,  as  far 
as  the  Poles  were  concerned,  was  that  I  might  be  searched 
for  letters  before  leaving  the  country.  On  the  way  to  Poland 
I  had  received  several  letters  of  introduction  for  Moscow 
from  Paul  Birukov,  a  Russian,  friend  and  biographer  of 
Tolstoi,  whom  I  had  met  in  Geneva.  One  was  to  Brons 
Brouyevitch,  who  was  associated  with  Lunacharsky,  Com- 
missioner of  Education;  another  to  Krupkaya,  wife  of  Lenin. 
Besides  I  had  a  letter  from  a  well  known  Polish  Communist, 
and  a  number  of  personal  letters  from  Jewish  people  in 
Poland  to  their  relatives  in  Russia.  The  latter,  for  all  I 
knew,  might  be  a  disadvantage  to  me  with  the  Bolsheviks 
as  well,  for  in  most  cases  I  had  no  idea  of  the  politics  of 
the  people  who  had  given  them  to  me.  I  even  had  three 
thousand  Kerensky  roubles  from  a  Doctor  Szabad  of  Vilna, 
for  his  wife,  who  was  living  in  Petrograd,  and  letters  from 
members  of  Jewish  benevolent  associations  to  fellow  members 
in  Orscha,  Vitebsk,  Smolensk  and  Moscow.  Much  to  my 
relief  the  subject  was  never  brought  up,  and  as  a  matter  of 
fact  I  was  not  searched  until  my  arrival  in  Moscow. 

We  left  Borisov  for  the  front  in  a  sleigh  early  on  the 
morning  of  February  8th,  with  a  Polish  soldier  who  acted  as 
our  escort  during  an  exciting  drive  of  seven  versts,  along  a 
rough  highway  rutted  by  heavy  motor  lorries,  through  a 
winding  track  in  a  dense  forest  where  we  often  had  to  stop 
and  bridge  the  trenches  with  spruce  boughs  to  permit  the 
passage  of  our  sleigh.  We  finally  arrived  at  a  dugout  built 
of  logs,  camouflaged  with  evergreens  where  I  found  an  officer 
who  had  been  notified  of  our  coming  from  staff  headquarters 
at  Borisov.  He  was  none  too  cordial  and  evidently  did  not 
relish  his  task  of  conducting  me  to  No  Man's  Land.  We  had 
coffee  together  and  all  the  while  he  entertained  me  with  ac- 
counts of  Bolshevik  atrocities,  predicting  that  I  would  prob- 
ably be  shot  within  twenty-four  hours  and  suggesting  that 
perhaps  I  should  like  to  change  my  mind  and  go  back  to  Bo- 
risov.    Finding  me  adamant,  he  started  out  leading  the  way 


WARSAW  TO  NO  MAN'S  LAND        17 

through  a  network  of  barbed  wire  entanglements  with  my 
carryall  slung  over  his  shoulder.  I  followed  with  my  suitcase 
and  knapsack,  and  the  little  doctor,  who  was  very  fat  and  short 
of  breath,  brought  up  the  rear. 

Finally  we  emerged  from  the  woods  and  I  found  myself 
on  the  edge  of  No  Man's  Land,  a  wide  open  expanse  of  snow- 
covered  fields  dotted  here  and  there  with  peasant  villages.  Ap- 
parently it  was  absolutely  uninhabited.  There  were  no  signs 
of  life,  not  even  an  occasional  peasant  or  a  village  dog — 
dead  silence  brooded  over  everything.  I  knew  that  somewhere, 
just  beyond,  were  detachments  of  the  Red  Army,  but  there  was 
no  evidence  of  their  proximity.  Some  distance  away  was  a 
small  settlement  of  about  six  houses  and  the  officer  informed 
me  that  there  we  would  be  able  to  find  a  sleigh  to  take  us  to  the 
nearest  village.  We  covered  the  distance  in  a  few  minutes 
and  knocked  at  the  door  of  one  of  the  houses,  a  rough  board 
structure  with  a  thatched  roof.  A  bearded  peasant  with  a 
sheepskin  coat  and  astrakhan  cap  appeared  at  the  door.  He 
eyed  my  escort  in  a  rather  unfriendly  manner  and  was  de- 
cidedly disgruntled  when  ordered  to  bring  out  his  sleigh  and 
take  us  to  the  nearest  village,  where,  I  was  told,  I  would 
probably  meet  the  Red  Army  patrol  in  a  few  hours.  Presently 
he  brought  up  a  moth-eaten  horse  and  a  broken  down  sleigh 
into  which  we  piled  our  bags,  following  him  on  foot  to  the 
village  which  we  reached  after  a  half-hour  tramp.  We  stopped 
in  front  of  a  schoolhouse,  the  only  decent  building  in  the 
place,  where  we  were  received  by  the  teacher,  a  very  pretty 
Russian  girl  who  spoke  Polish  well,  and  seemed  to  be  on  ex- 
cellent terais  with  my  officer.  They  had  a  long  conversation 
during  which  she  evidently  gave  him  a  certain  amount  of  im- 
portant information  for  which  he  paid  several  pounds  of 
chocolate  and  a  package  of  tea.  Then  he  said  good-bye  to  me, 
wishing  me  luck,  and  Doctor  Karlin  and  I  were  left  to  await 
the  arrival  of  the  Red  Army  patrol. 


CHAPTER  II 
A  RED  ARMY  BILLET 

The  room  in  which  we  were  sitting  served  as  the  teacher's 
living  and  bedroom.  It  was  large  and  cheerful,  with  geraniums 
in  the  windows,  a  comfortable  drugget  on  the  floor,  and  a  big 
porcelain  stove  in  the  comer  that  made  us  forget  the  intense 
cold  outside — in  fact  several  degrees  below  zero.  In  a  few 
minutes,  with  true  Russian  hospitality,  the  teacher  brought  in 
a  bubbling  samovar,  some  small  oaten  cakes  with  bacon  fat 
instead  of  butter,  and  invited  us  to  have  a  cup  of  real  tea, 
which  she  had  probably  received  on  a  previous  visit  from 
our  officer.  It  was  all  very  different  from  what  I  had  imag- 
ined. I  had  thought  that  I  would  find  No  Man's  Land  a  deso- 
late waste,  but  here  was  no  sign  of  war  and  destruction — even 
comparative  comfort.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  never  had  the  feeling 
that  I  was  in  the  zone  of  military  operations,  either  on  the 
Polish  or  Russian  front  lines. 

To  anyone  who  was  at  all  familiar  with  the  Western 
Front  in  the  great  war,  the  Beresina  front  was  like  going  back 
to  the  days  of,  say.  Napoleon.  The  Poles  had  an  irregular 
line  of  entrenchments  and  barbed  wire  entanglements,  seven 
versts  east  of  the  Beresina,  a  few  batteries  of  light  artillery 
and  machine  guns.  Their  supplies  were  brought  to  within  a 
few  versts  of  the  advanced  posts  by  a  small  number  of  decrepit 
motor  lorries,  which  had  much  difficulty  in  ploughing  their 
way  through  the  heavy  snow.  Then  they  were  loaded  on 
sleighs  or  carried  in  packs  to  the  front  line  trenches.  There 
were  no  narrow  gauge  lines,  no  funny  little  dummy  engines, 
no  strings  of  supply  trains  passing  one  another.  Everything 
was  primitive  and  simple  to  a  degree;  there  was  none  of  the 
paraphernalia  of  modern  war.     The  soldiers  were  poorly 

i8 


A  RED  ARMY  BILLET  19 

armed,  poorly  equipped,  and  lived  in  the  rudest  shelters 
imaginable. 

The  Bolsheviks  did  not  even  pretend  to  have  a  line  of  en- 
trenchments. Betvifeen  them  and  the  Poles  was  a  wide 
stretch  of  open  territory,  perhaps  five  versts  across  in  the 
narrowest  portion.  Behind  this  debatable  ground  were  the 
scattered  villages,  in  which  the  Red  Army  detachments  were 
billeted.  On  that  sector  of  the  Russian  front  I  never  saw 
a  trench  or  a  dugout.  The  entire  army  was  like  a  flying 
squadron,  ready  to  advance  or  retreat  at  a  moment's  notice. 
Of  course  the  Russian  climate  makes  a  winter  campaign  prac- 
tically impossible,  and  the  Bolsheviks  were  quite  safe  as  they 
were.  Besides,  both  sides  at  that  time  confidently  expected 
peace  in  the  spring,  and  were  simply  maintaining  an  attitude 
of  watchful  waiting. 

So  far  I  had  seen  no  evidences  of  the  presence  of  the 
Red  Army,  but  in  about  an  hour  the  door  opened  and  three 
men  in  rough  khaki  colored  coats,  high  boots  and  astrakhan 
caps  came  in.  Each  wore  on  his  cap  a  five-pointed  star,  and 
one  had  pinned  to  his  coat  the  Communist  insignia,  a  star 
surrounded  by  a  silver  wreath.  He  was  a  splendid  looking 
fellow,  of  the  peasant  type,  with  clear  blue  eyes  and  a  whole- 
some, ruddy  skin,  very  young  and  very  much  impressed  with 
the  importance  of  his  office,  for  he  was  a  political  commissar. 
I  explained  to  him  in  my  very  best  Russian,  that  I  had  come 
from  America  to  learn  the  truth  about  the  Soviet  Government, 
and  that  I  wished  to  go  on  to  Moscow. 

"That  is  very  good  of  you,"  he  said  simply,  with  the 
friendliest  smile  imaginable,  "but  I  have  no  authority  to  let 
you  go  farther.  I  must  telephone  to  the  company  commander 
in  Lochnitza,  the  next  village.  Meanwhile  we  will  do  all  we 
can  to  make  you  comfortable  here." 

While  we  were  waiting  for  a  reply  the  teacher  invited  me 
to  have  a  look  at  the  schoolroom  across  the  hall.  School  was 
over  for  the  day,  and  I  found  a  meeting  of  the  village  Soviet 
going  on.  There  were  women  as  well  as  men  gathered  around 
the  chairman,  who  was  reading  a  decree  from  Moscow  order- 
ing the  mobilization  of  all  men  of  the  classes  of  1883,  1884 


20  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

and  1885  to  cut  and  haul  wood  for  the  railroads  and  the  army. 
This  was  followed  by  the  announcement  that  all  villagers  who 
had  not  a  sufficient  supply  of  wood  to  last  through  the  winter 
would  be  allotted  a  certain  amount,  and  a  list  of  names  of  those 
in  need  of  wood  was  read.  Instantly  several  hands  were 
raised. 

"My  neighbor,  Dmitri  Pavlovitch,  is  not  on  the  list,"  said 
one  man.  "He  has  not  enough  wood  to  last  a  month,"  Dmi- 
tri's name  was  promptly  written  down,  as  was  that  of  a  woman 
who  claimed  that  she  had  been  overlooked,  and  various  other 
matters  affecting  the  commune  were  taken  up  one  by  one. 
Few  of  the  members  could  read  or  write,  and  yet  they  were 
governing  themselves  in  an  orderly  and  efficient  manner. 

"We  are  doing  our  best,"  said  the  young  commissar,  who 
had  come  back  with  the  news  that  I  was  to  be  sent  to  the  com- 
pany command  fifteen  versts  away,  "but  we  are  greatly 
handicapped  because  of  the  lack  of  cooperation  of  the  intelli- 
gent classes.    We  want  them  to  work  with  us." 

Our  trip  was  made  in  two  requisitioned  sleighs,  Doctor 
Karlin  and  I  occupying  the  first,  the  second  containing  our 
baggage  and  two  soldiers.  The  way  led  down  the  broad 
highroad  that  runs  from  Minsk  to  Moscow,  which  I  had 
already  traveled  on  the  Polish  side.  It  was  built  by  Catherine 
the  Great ;  to  this  day  it  is  bordered  in  many  places  by  double 
rows  of  birch  trees  planted  in  her  time,  and  the  peasants  still 
call  it  the  "Ekaterina  Chaussee."  Our  driver  was  a  typical 
moujik,  big,  blond,  gentle  and  childlike,  with  a  certain  underly- 
ing shrewdness.  He  was  extremely  talkative  and  the  fact  that 
I  was  a  foreigner  gave  him  an  added  degree  of  confidence. 
Indeed  he  was  childishly  eager  to  explain  his  perplexities  and 
get  my  advice.  "We  are  a  dark  people,  Barina,"  he  said;  "we 
know  little  beyond  our  own  villages.  It  was  bad  for  us  under 
our  father,  the  Tsar,  that  much  we  know.  Now  we  have  a 
new  government.     Will  it  be  better  for  us,  do  you  think?" 

I  told  him  it  would  be  hard  for  me,  as  a  foreigner,  to  judge, 
and  asked  him  how  the  people  of  his  village  had  been  treated 
by  the  Red  Army. 

According  to  his  accoiiiiis,  on  the  whole,  they  had  fared 


A  RED  ARMY  BILLET  21 

much  better  since  the  revohition.  A  commissar  had  taken 
charge,  and  had  made  a  Hst  of  foodstuffs  and  hve  stock  avail- 
able. Each  peasant  had  been  allowed  enough  for  his  needs, 
and  the  surplus  had  been  requisitioned  for  the  army.  There 
had  been  no  robbery  and  no  lawlessness.  On  certain  days  he 
was  compelled  to  report  for  work  with  his  horse  and  sleigh, 
but  otherwise  he  was  left  free  to  attend  to  his  own  affairs. 
In  his  village,  he  told  me,  there  was  enough  food,  with  the 
exception  of  salt,  but  salt  was  extremely  expensive,  and  al- 
most unobtainable.  Parties  constantly  crossed  the  Polish 
lines  to  smuggle  in  supplies,  but  they  were  frequently  arrested 
and  shot  by  the  Poles.  As  for  the  soldiers  of  the  Red  Army, 
they  had  as  a  rule  been  very  good  to  the  peasants,  often  sharing 
their  supplies  with  them,  or  giving  salt  in  return  for  eggs, 
milk  and  bacon. 

Other  peasants  with  whom  I  talked  in  the  districts  through 
which  we  passed,  which  are  among  the  poorest  agricultural 
regions  in  Russia,  told  the  same  story  with  variations.  In 
some  villages  there  was  no  surplus  and  often  a  shortage  of 
food  supply,  and  there  requisitions  had  been  made  very  spar- 
ingly. There  was  some  dissatisfaction  over  the  failure  of  the 
government  to  provide  food,  but  no  antagonism  to  the  admin- 
istration as  such. 

Among  the  few  richer  moujiks  who  owned  good-sized 
tracts  of  land  there  was  a  strong  sentiment  against  nationaliza- 
tion, but  as  a  matter  of  fact  the  government  had  decided  the 
previous  year  to  leave  the  question  of  nationalization  in 
abeyance.  Actually,  under  the  Soviet  Government  there  is  less 
communism  in  the  matter  of  land  holdings  than  there  was 
under  the  Tsar.  Under  the  old  system  much  land  was  owned 
in  common  by  the  villages  and  parcelled  out  among  the  peas- 
ants. At  present  the  peasants  are  in  posssesion  of  their  farms. 
Many  of  them  are  dubious  about  this  free  gift  from  the  gov- 
ernment, and  officials  are  often  approached  by  the  peasants 
with  offers  to  pay  for  their  newly  acquired  interests.  The 
peasants  may  be  dissatisfied  with  taxes  or  requisitions,  they 
may  complain  of  the  lack  of  the  government  to  supply  them 
with  seeds,  farm  implements  and  manufactured  goods,  but  they 


22  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

will  never  rise  en  masse  against  any  government  which  leaves 
them  in  possession  of  the  land. 

Meanwhile  they  are  actually  rich  as  far  as  money  goes, 
and  nearly  every  peasant  has  his  hoard  of  "Nikolai"  roubles 
tucked  in  his  boots  or  hidden  under  the  family  feather  bed 
on  the  stove.  At  present,  however,  his  money  does  him  no 
good.  Many  of  the  village  cooperatives  are  closed  or  are 
operating  on  a  restricted  basis  on  account  of  lack  of  supplies. 

We  arrived  after  dark  in  a  driving  snowstorm  and  stopped 
in  front  of  an  "izba"  that  served  as  company  headquarters.  It 
had  two  rooms.  In  the  first  a  family  of  moujiks  was  living 
An  enormous  earthenware  stove,  on  top  of  which  the  grand- 
mother and  children  had  already  gone  to  bed,  was  the  most 
prominent  article  of  furniture  in  the  room.  The  father  and 
several  grown  up  sons  were  sitting  on  a  long  wooden  bench, 
smoking  pipes,  filled  with  a  vile  weed  called  "mahorka,"  the 
peasant  substitute  for  tobacco.  In  front  of  the  fire  the  mother 
was  spinning  flax  on  a  spinning  wheel  that  looked  as  if  it 
might  have  been  made  in  the  seventeenth  century.  The  other 
room  served  as  living  and  sleeping  quarters  for  the  comman- 
dant and  his  political  commissar. 

The  latter  was  at  first  inclined  to  be  somewhat  suspicious 
and  put  me  through  a  rigid  cross-examination,  but  as  he  showed 
no  intention  of  having  me  shot  on  the  spot,  I  began  to  feel 
slightly  encouraged,  especially  as  I  knew  something  of  army 
psychology.  These  Red  Army  men  on  the  Beresina  were 
very  much  like  our  own  troops  on  the  Western  front — they 
were  lonely  and  homesick;  they  had  news  and  mail  only  inter- 
mittently. Life  was  very  dull  between  the  intervals  of  hostili- 
ties and  they  were  thirsty  for  news  and  amusement.  I  was  the 
first  person  who  had  come  to  them  from  the  outside  world. 
Most  of  them  had  never  seen  a  Western  European,  much  less 
an  American  woman,  before.  It  was  curiosity  and  boredom, 
coupled,  perhaps,  with  a  certain  admiration  of  my  audacity, 
that  carried  me  through  the  Red  Army  from  this  small  village 
on  the  edge  of  No  Man's  Land  to  Division  Headquarters  at 
Vitebsk. 

Having  successfully  passed  through  the  ordeal  of  cross- 


A  RED  ARMY  BILLET  23 

examination  we  were  received  with  simple  unaffected  friendli- 
ness, and  deluged  with  questions  with  regard  to  happenings  in 
the  outside  world.  Why  did  the  Entente  wish  to  prevent 
Russia  from  settling  her  own  affairs  in  her  own  way?  What 
was  the  attitude  of  the  American  people  with  regard  to  their 
Russian  comrades?  Who  would  be  the  next  American  presi- 
dent? When  would  the  blockade  be  lifted?  When  would 
Russia  have  peace  ? 

While  I  was  endeavoring  to  answer  in  my  limited  Russian, 
with  the  help  of  my  interpreter,  supper  was  brought  in.  There 
were  no  plates,  and  we  shared  a  community  dish  of  delicious 
country  bacon  with  black  bread,  butter  and  hot  tea  with  milk. 
After  supper  the  commander  himself  took  us  to  our  billet  in 
an  "izba"  across  the  way.  It  was  quite  a  luxurious  one,  boast- 
ing three  rooms.  Ours  was  the  best  in  the  house,  the  principal 
articles  of  furniture  being  a  wooden  bed  with  big  down  pillows 
and  an  American  sewing  machine.  The  entire  family  as- 
sembled to  greet  us,  and  from  that  moment  we  were  never  left 
alone.  They  had  never  seen  an  American  woman  before  and 
their  curiosity  was  flattering  if  a  bit  overwhelming.  Every 
piece  of  baggage  was  inspected  and  I  undressed  and  went  to 
bed  before  a  breathlessly  interested  audience.  The  women  of 
the  family  gathered  in  my  room  to  watch  the  process,  and  the 
men,  I  felt  sure,  peeped  through  the  cracks  in  the  wooden 
partition.  In  the  morning  my  sponge  bath  in  a  small  tin 
basin  was  a  source  of  untold  entertainment.  We  had  a  break- 
fast of  pancakes  and  tea,  after  which  the  commander  appeared. 
It  was  ten  o'clock  and  he  had  just  gotten  up.  Nobody  in 
Russia  ever  wants  to  go  to  bed  or  get  up  in  the  morning, 
and  reveille  is  unknown  in  the  Red  Army.  Soldiers  and 
officers  get  up  when  they  please. 

He  invited  me  to  go  out  and  inspect  the  schools  and  the 
hospital.  "School!"  I  said.  "Is  it  possible  that  you  have  a 
school  here?"  for  we  were  only  fifteen  versts  from  No  Man's 
Land. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  he  answered,  "and  we  have  more  pupils  than 
before  the  Revolution." 

I  found  that  there  had  formerly  been  one  primary  school  in 


24  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

Lochnitza,  with  sixty-five  pupils.  At  that  time  four  hundred 
pupils  were  registered  in  the  primary  schools  and  the  gymna- 
sium or  secondary  school.  The  entire  equipment  for  the  gym- 
nasium had  been  gotten  together  very  hurriedly.  There  were 
three  class  rooms  in  each  of  which  I  found  about  thirty  pupils 
hard  at  work.  The  benches  had  been  knocked  together  from 
boards,  with  log  supports.  Similar  benches,  a  little  higher, 
served  as  desks.  The  blackboards  were  home-made  and  the 
pupils  were  doing  their  exercises  on  sheets  of  wrapping  paper, 
cut  the  required  size,  with  pencils  that  had  been  divided  into 
three  to  make  them  go  around. 

The  schoolmaster  was  teaching  a  class  in  geometry  when 
I  came  in.  He  had  only  two  text  books.  He  was  an  elderly 
man  who  had  formerly  taught  in  one  of  the  gymnasia.  All 
his  life  he  had  had  theories  about  education  which  he  had  never 
been  allowed  to  put  into  practice,  and  here  he  was  in  this  out 
of  the  way  place,  within  range  of  the  Polish  guns,  carrying 
out  his  life's  ambition  with  next  to  nothing  in  the  way  of 
equipment.  He  had  planned  for  his  pupils  an  up-to-date 
course,  corresponding  to  that  in  our  high  schools,  including 
modern  languages,  bookkeeping,  scientific  and  agricultural 
courses.  He  was  very  much  interested  in  the  American  public- 
school  system  and  asked  me  when  I  thought  they  would  be 
able  to  get  some  pedagogical  books  from  the  United  States. 
His  attitude  towards  the  Soviet  Government  was  purely  non- 
political,  but  I  think  it  was  rather  favorable  than  otherwise. 

In  the  primary  schools  there  was  the  same  lack  of  technical 
equipment.  I  talked  to  one  of  the  teachers  who  was  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  pom^stchik,  one  of  the  former  landlords  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. She  was  frankly  uninterested  in  her  work  and 
resentful  at  being  obHged  to  teach  French  and  German  to  the 
children  of  her  father's  moujiks.  Nothing  good  could  come 
of  it,  she  said,  and  I  could  easily  see  that  here  was  the  sabo- 
tage of  which  I  had  already  heard. 

From  the  schools  we  went  to  the  hospital.  It  was  a  well- 
arranged  building,  with  light,  airy  wards,  each  containing 
twenty  beds,  a  dispensary  and  an  operating  room,  but  it  was 
absolutely  empty.     There  was  not  a  piece  of  linen,  a  yard  of 


A  RED  ARMY  BILLET  25 

surgical  dressings,  a  pound  of  soap  or  disinfectant  nor  an 
ounce  of  medicine.  The  physician  in  charge  told  me  that 
it  was  impossible  to  receive  patients. 

"All  I  can  do  is  to  handle  a  few  surgical  cases  in  the  dis- 
pensary," he  said,  "and  yet  the  number  of  new  cases  of  typhus 
averages  twenty  a  week." 

Before  we  finished  our  tour  of  inspection  a  regular  bliz- 
zard was  raging,  and  it  was  bitterly  cold,  so  we  decided  to 
remain  in  Lochnitza  for  another  night,  I  had  just  started 
to  give  the  commander  an  English  lesson,  after  explaining  the 
delightful  mysteries  of  my  folding  typewriter,  when  he  was 
called  to  the  telephone.  He  came  back  with  a  rueful  ex- 
pression. 

"I  have  bad  news  for  you,"  he  said. 

"Here's  where  we  go  back  over  the  border,"  I  thought, 
but  it  proved  that  he  had  orders  to  send  us  on  at  once  to  regi- 
mental headquarters  at  Nacha,  twenty-five  versts  away;  so 
we  bundled  up  and  set  off  in  two  sleighs  down  the  long,  broad 
Chaussee.  Our  hosts  flatly  refused  to  accept  money  for  our 
meals  and  lodgings,  the  old  mother  only  begging  me  to  take 
a  letter  to  her  son  in  New  York.  She  had  lost  the  address, 
but  she  was  quite  sure  that  I  would  be  able  to  find  him,  and  I 
hadn't  the  heart  to  undeceive  her. 

We  reported  at  regimental  headquarters,  where  the  political 
commissar  offered  us  his  own  billet,  a  warm,  comfortable  room 
in  a  clean  little  "izba,"  where  we  had  supper  with  him  and  the 
commander  of  the  regiment.  They  were  an  interesting  pair. 
The  commander,  Shevilof,  was  an  actor  by  profession,  and  an 
artist  to  his  finger  tips,  and  the  commissar,  Shefchenko,  who 
was  an  ardent  Communist,  had  been  an  upholsterer.  The  lat- 
ter told  me  much  about  the  activities  of  the  Communist  party 
in  the  army, 

"Every  officer  shares  authority  with  a  political  commissar, 
who  is  invariably  a  Communist,"  he  said.  "We  are  placed  in 
the  army  to  guard  against  purely  military  authority.  All 
complaints,  all  matters  of  regimental  discipline,  and  all  ques- 
tions affecting  relations  between  the  army  and  the  civilian 
population  must  be  referred  to  us,  although  with  regard  to 


26  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

technical  matters  the  officer  has  full  liberty  of  action.  It  is 
required  of  an  officer  simply  that  he  must  be  an  expert  in  his 
line,  and  that  he  shall  attend  to  his  business.  Under  this  sys- 
tem it  is  possible  for  us  to  make  use  of  former  army  officers, 
irrespective  of  their  political  convictions,  because  their  activi- 
ties are  controlled.  There  are,  in  addition,  Communists 
among  the  enlisted  men  in  every  regiment,  and  we  choose 
some  of  our  best  men  for  that  job,  because  we  realize  the 
importance  of  propaganda." 

The  commander  was  plainly  not  interested  in  politics, 
and  our  talk  drifted  to  music,  the  theater,  books  and  finally 
to  Russian  songs.  One  after  another  he  sang  lovely  folk 
melodies,  boat  songs  from  the  Volga,  harvest  songs  from  the 
Ukraine,  songs  of  forgotten  heroes.  Soon  a  crowd  of  sol- 
diers gathered  at  the  door  and  we  all  joined  in  the  chorus.  Then 
followed  revolutionary  songs,  such  as  the  splendid  funeral 
march  of  the  Communists,  the  famous  "Varschavianka"  and  the 
"Doubinushka,"  perhaps  the  finest  of  all  Russian  folk  songs, 
for  it  is  the  heart  cry  of  the  Russian  people.  For  generations 
the  untranslatable  chorus  was  sung  by  factory  workers  toiling 
twelve  hours  a  day,  by  the  slaves  of  the  ^pontestchiki  and 
by  the  political  prisoners  in  the  Siberian  mines,  who  were  kept 
from  dropping  at  their  tasks  by  the  steady  rhythm.  The  hours 
slipped  by  and  it  was  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  before  we 
wished  each  other  "Spakoinye  noche,"  a  peaceful  night. 

We  were  left  to  sleep  undisturbed  until  nearly  noon,  when 
the  commissar  knocked  at  our  door.  He  had  communicated 
with  brigade  headquarters  at  Krupki,  some  twenty-five  versts 
away,  and  had  received  instructions  to  send  us  on  as  soon  as 
possible.  From  there,  he  told  us,  we  would  get  direct  rail 
communications  with  Moscow.  So  far  we  had  traveled  entirely 
by  sleigh,  as  the  railroad  had  been  torn  up  in  anticipation  of 
the  Polish  offensive.  At  Krupki  we  would  be  behind  the  front 
lines  and  would  find  much  more  comfortable  accommodations. 


CHAPTER  III 
WORK  AND  PLAY  IN  THE  RED  ARMY 

Kmpki,  as  brigade  headquarters,  was  quite  an  important 
town,  with  a  correspondingly  important  staff.  The  command- 
ing officer  was  away  at  the  time  of  our  arrival,  and  we  were 
received  by  the  political  commissar,  a  Pole  named  Sinkiewicz. 
I  had  n:uch  more  difficulty  in  getting  by  the  first  examination 
with  him  than  with  the  other  commissars,  for  he  was  both 
inquisitiye  and  suspicious,  besides  being  exceedingly  intelli- 
gent, and  a  devoted  Communist.  Finally,  however,  he  decided 
to  let  us  stay  at  Krupki,  I  rather  think  in  order  that  he  might 
observe  us  himself.  He  gave  up  his  own  room  to  me,  and 
left  nothing  undone  to  make  us  comfortable.  We  stayed  for 
nearly  a  week,  and  I  grew  to  know  him  very  well.  Before 
the  war  he  had  been  a  joiner,  and  he  had  had  only  a  rudi- 
mentary education,  but  he  had  natural  ability,  real  enthusiasm, 
and  unlimited  capacity  for  work.  No  detail  was  too  small 
to  receive  his  attention.  He  worked  from  nine  or  ten  of  one 
morning  till  three  or  four  of  the  next,  and  the  soldiers,  while 
not  fond  of  him,  for  he  was  a  rather  unapproachable  person, 
respected  him  greatly.  Outwardly  in  his  command  there  was 
very  little  of  what  we  would  call  discipline;  the  soldiers  never 
stood  at  attention  or  saluted;  there  were  apparently  no  fixed 
hours  for  anything,  but  when  he  gave  an  order  it  was  instantly 
obeyed. 

With  him  I  visited  many  of  the  enlisted  men's  billets. 
They  were  comfortably  housed,  and  there  was  none  of  the  over- 
crowding which  I  had  noticed  in  the  Polish  army.  The  men's 
equipment  was  excellent,  though  not  uniform.  Each  man 
had  two  suits  of  underwear,  a  uniform  consisting  of  a  flannel 
blouse  or  an  army  tunic  somewhat  on  the  American  pattern, 
loose,  baggy  trousers,  stout  leather  boots  or  shoes  and  felt 

27 


28  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

boots  for  extreme  weather,  called  vdlinki,  an  Astrakhan  cap, 
a  greatcoat  or  a  sheepskin  jacket.  Their  rifles  were  in  good 
order,  but  not  of  the  latest  pattern,  and  mostly  remade.  There 
was  no  army  kitchen,  each  man  receiving  his  rations  in  bulk, 
and  preparing  them  in  his  own  billet. 

The  officers  had  a  mess  in  the  schoolhouse  across  the  way 
from  my  own  billet,  and  I  was  invited  to  share  their  meals. 
They  received  the  same  rations  as  the  men,  but  employed  a 
woman  to  cook  for  them,  and  pooled  their  suppHes.  I  prepared 
my  breakfast  in  my  room,  but  had  dinner  and  supper  with 
them.  The  fonner  meal  consisted  of  a  meat  soup,  meat  cutlets, 
with  potatoes  or  kasha,  the  Russian  national  dish  (a  cereal, 
usually  whole  wheat,  buckwheat  or  millet),  tea,  with  occasion- 
ally marmalade.  Supper  was  soup,  kasha,  tea,  and  sometimes 
bacon. 

There  were  few  officers  at  headquarters,  most  of  them 
being  stationed  in  adjoining  towns,  but  they  often  came  into 
Krupki  for  orders  and  I  met  many  of  them.  Most  of  them 
were  former  imperial  army  officers,  soldiers  by  profession, 
who  had  no  political  ideas,  and  cared  little  for  whom  they 
fought  as  long  as  they  got  their  pay;  others  may  have  been 
working  against  the  Soviet  Government,  hoping  for  a  chance 
to  put  something  over,  but  on  the  surface  everything  worked 
smoothly,  and  the  political  commissar's  word  was  law.  The 
only  place  where  I  noticed  sabotage  or  friction  was  in  the  Red 
Cross,  which  is  in  charge  of  the  Red  Army  Sanitary  Service, 
and  there  also  I  began  to  observe  evidences  of  discontent  among 
the  Jews,  which  is  far  more  prevalent  in  Soviet  Russia  than 
people  on  the  outside  believe.  Many  of  the  physicians  and  a 
large  proportion  of  the  personnel  were  Jews,  few  of  them 
were  Communists,  nearly  all  of  the  men  had  entered  the 
sanitary  service  to  escape  active  duty,  and  there  was  plenty 
of  sabotage.  The  Synagogue  had  been  converted  into  an 
emergency  field  hospital,  the  church  being  spared,  which 
caused  a  great  deal  of  feeling  among  the  Jewish  population. 
This  was  almost  invariably  the  case  in  small  towns  unprovided 
with  sufficient  hospital  facilities,  and  with  no  large  buildings 
except  the  church  and  synagogue.     It  was  quite  natural  that 


WORK  AND  PLAY  IN  THE  RED  ARMY      29 

the  latter  should  have  been  chosen  as  it  was  always  lighter  and 
dryer  than  the  church,  but  the  Jews  did  not  appreciate  this 
fact  and  were  in  many  cases  very  bitter  against  the  army 
authorities. 

The  head  physician  at  Krupki  was  a  most  entertaining 
person,  who  played  the  harmonica  like  a  virtuoso,  and  regaled 
me  with  roast  goose  and  baked  apples  in  his  billet,  but  he  was 
very  slipshod  in  his  methods  and  profoundly  indifferent.  The 
hospital,  while  well  equipped  with  medicines  and  supplies,  was 
very  dirty,  and  ran  itself  without  any  system  whatever. 

The  peasants  at  Krupki  I  found  exactly  like  the  others  I 
had  met — they  were  very  well  pleased  at  owning  their  land, 
dumbly  submissive  to  the  requisition  system,  which  they 
evaded  whenever  they  could,  totally  apolitical,  and  only  vaguely 
conscious  of  the  great  changes  that  had  come  to  Russia.  They 
had  always  been  in  the  fighting  zone  since  the  beginning  of  the 
war,  military  rule  prevailed  then,  and  it  was  still  in  force. 
Their  food  ration  had  been  getting  steadily  shorter,  supplies 
of  manufactured  goods  less  and  less,  but  then  that  was  war. 
They  had  the  land,  their  children  were  getting  a  better  educa- 
tion, that  was  the  Revolution. 

On  the  whole  they  were  rather  pleased  than  otherwise  with 
the  change.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  if  they  were  left  in  posses- 
sion of  their  fields,  and  received  a  scant  supply  of  salt  and 
manufactured  articles,  they  would  care  very  little  about  the 
form  of  government  in  far-away  Moscow  or  even  in  the  pro- 
vincial capital  of  Vitebsk.  The  members  of  the  village  Soviet 
were  simple,  hardworking  men  for  the  most  part;  a  few  of 
them,  however,  were  Communist  propaganda  workers  who 
took  the  lead,  and  the  others  let  them  run  things. 

The  Jewish  population,  composed  entirely  of  former  small 
tradespeople,  was,  on  the  other  hand,  bitterly  discontented. 
Their  stores  had  been  closed,  they  were  compelled  to  do  work 
for  the  army  in  order  to  draw  their  rations;  speculation 
was  punished  with  arrest  or  imprisonment.  Many  of  them 
were  very  poor,  far  worse  off  indeed  than  the  peasants.  In 
the  small  towns  in  the  war  zone  there  are  not  multifarious 
commissariats  in  which  the  Jews  can  find  comfortable  jobs; 


30  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

they  do  not  care  for  hard  physical  work  and  many  of  them 
existed  on  secreted  supplies  or  devious  and  dangerous  contra- 
band trade  with  Poland. 

While  in  Krupki  I  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  one  of  the 
Red  Army  schools  for  illiterates.  These  schools  are  splendidly 
organized.  There  is  a  school  for  every  two  hundred  and 
fifty  men  throughout  the  entire  Red  Army.  Attendance  is 
compulsory  and  by  an  intensive  system  of  teaching,  illiterates 
are  taught  to  read  the  newspapers  and  to  write  a  fairly  legible 
hand  in  six  weeks.  In  the  class  I  saw  there  were  about  fifteen 
pupils,  mostly  sturdy  young  boys  of  the  peasant  class  from 
nineteen  to  twenty- four.  They  sat  around  a  big  table,  at  the 
head  of  which  stood  the  teacher.  He  distributed  a  number  of 
cardboard  letters  among  the  pupils,  then  formed  with  the 
letters  which  he  had  retained  a  word  of  one  syllable.  After 
all  had  taken  a  good  look  at  it,  he  swept  the  letters  into  a  pile 
in  the  center  of  the  table  and  then  a  race  started  among  the 
pupils  to  form  the  word  from  memory,  the  man  who  made  it 
first  and  correctly  winning  the  game.  They  were  as  keen 
about  it  as  children,  a  score  was  kept  and  there  was  hot  rivalry 
among  them  to  see  who  would  come  out  ahead  at  the  end 
of  the  lesson. 

It  was  very  interesting  to  note  that  while  teaching  the  sol- 
diers the  alphabet,  the  teacher  also  inculcated  the  first  principles 
of  Communism.  Words  employing  all  vowels  and  consonants 
were  most  cleverly  brought  into  the  lesson,  each  chosen  with  a 
view  to  propaganda.  A  more  advanced  class  was  using  a 
primer  for  adult  illiterates,  which  had  been  published  by  the 
department  of  education.  The  first  sentence  was:  "Mui  ne 
rabui — mui  radi."  "We  are  not  slaves — we  are  glad."  Then 
follows  (this  time  I  will  only  give  the  English  translation)  : 
"We  are  all  equal — our  masters  are  sorry."  "We  used  to 
work  for  our  masters,  now  we  work  for  ourselves."  "We 
elect  our  Soviets."  "The  Soviets  are  the  tocsin  of  the  people." 
"Our  army  is  an  army  of  workers  and  peasants,"  and  so  on. 
When  words  of  three  syllables  were  reached  there  were  a  num- 
ber of  short  expositions  of  the  principles  of  soviet  government, 
the  relation  between  town  and  city  workers  and  finally  a  brief 


WORK  AND  PLAY  IN  THE  RED  ARMY      31 

sketch  of  the  growth  of  the  Communist  movement  from  the 
foundation  of  the  First  International.  The  first  "piece"  was 
a  speech  of  Trotzki. 

Reading  of  dates  and  numbers  was  taught  by  such  his- 
torical landmarks  as  the  birth  of  La  Salle  and  Karl  Marx,  the 
Decembrist  revolution,  the  assassinations  of  Alexander  the 
Second  and  Stolypin,  the  March  and  October  Revolutions 
and  the  meetings  of  the  International. 

The  educational  system  in  the  army  is  so  well  organized 
that  I  believe  that  every  man  who  serves  six  months  or  more 
in  the  Red  Army  will  go  home  with  at  least  a  rudimentary 
education. 

Social  amusements  as  well  are  not  lacking  in  the  Red  Army. 
One  night  while  I  was  at  Krupki  I  was  invited  to  a  ball  in  the 
brigade  recreation  center,  a  short  distance  outside  of  the 
town.  This  was  a  house  which  formerly  belonged  to  one  of 
the  large  landowners  in  the  neighborhood.  On  the  first  floor 
were  recreation  and  lounge  rooms  for  the  soldiers,  well  supplied 
with  newspapers  and  propaganda  hterature.  Upstairs  a  large 
room  had  been  converted  into  a  combination  theater  and  ball- 
room. All  the  stage  settings  had  been  designed  and  made  by 
the  soldiers  themselves.  The  curtain  was  made  of  strips  of 
muslin,  which  Russian  soldiers  are  in  the  habit  of  wrapping 
around  their  feet  instead  of  stockings  under  their  high  boots 
or  vdlinki. 

The  ball  was  preceded  by  three  one-act  plays,  in  which  the 
women's  parts  were  taken  by  girls  from  the  village.  The  first 
two  plays  were  the  production  of  local  Red  Army  talent.  One 
was  a  sort  of  condensed  version  of  "Ten  Nights  in  a  Barroom," 
the  other  frankly  militaristic  propaganda  about  a  boy  who  re- 
deems a  worthless  past  by  valiant  service  in  the  Red  Army. 
The  third,  much  to  my  amusement,  was  a  conventional  society 
farce  with  all  the  earmarks  of  Class,  and  it  was  played  and 
applauded  with  more  zest  than  either  of  the  others. 

After  the  performance  chairs  were  pushed  back  and  the 
dance  began,  the  music  being  furnished  by  a  regimental  band, 
which  alternated  Russian  national  dances  with  American  rag- 
time.   We  had  "A  Hot  Time  in  the  Old  Town,"  "On  the  Mis- 


88  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW: 

sissippi,"  Sousa's  marches,  including  the  "Stars  and  Stripes 
Forever,"  and  I  danced  the  two-step  for  the  first  time  in  ten 
years.  The  Russian  dances  were  far  more  intricate  and 
proved  a  great  tax  on  my  adaptabihty,  but  I  managed  to  get 
through  without  any  serious  mistakes. 

Officers  and  enHsted  men  mingled  indiscriminately,  for 
when  not  on  duty  no  distinction  of  rank  is  officially  recognized. 
The  uniforms  are  supposed  to  be  all  the  same,  the  only  differ- 
ence being  that  the  officer  wears  on  his  left  arm  the  Red  stars 
and  bars,  the  insignia  of  rank.  But  I  found  that  practice  in 
this  rule  was  not  always  strictly  observed ;  the  officers'  uniforms 
were  usually  of  better  quality  than  those  of  the  men.  Some 
of  them  sported  British  uniforms  or  tunics  and  Sam  Brown 
belts,  from  army  stores  captured  in  Siberia  or  Archangel. 

The  word  "officer"  is  never  used  in  the  Red  Army,  being 
replaced  by  the  word  "Commander";  thus  a  company  com- 
mander is  addressed  "Comrade  Company  Commander,"  a  gen- 
eral "Comrade  Division  Commander."  The  organization  of 
the  army  is  similar  to  the  organization  of  other  armies,  begin- 
ning with  the  rota  or  company  and  going  to  the  division  which 
consists  of  a  minimum  of  ten  thousand  men.  Several  divisions 
form  an  "army,"  which  is  a  slightly  larger  unit  than  an  Ameri- 
can division.  There  were  forty  thousand  men  in  the  Seven- 
teenth Army,  whose  guest  I  was,  and  which  had  its  head- 
quarters at  Smolensk. 

In  the  middle  of  the  party  dancing  stopped  and  we  played 
a  game  called  "Post  Office."  Pencils  and  paper  were  dis- 
tributed, each  guest  was  given  a  small  slip  of  paper  on  which 
was  written  a  number.  These  we  pinned  on  our  chests,  and 
then  proceeded  to  write  letters  to  the  people  we  wanted  to  meet, 
addressing  them  by  number,  and  signing  our  own  numbers. 
The  letters  were  dropped  in  a  mail  bag  and  distributed  by  a 
soldier  postman.  If  Citizeness  27  received  a  letter  from  Citi- 
zen 17  she  was  supposed  to  ask  him  to  dance. 

I  had  a  number  of  letters,  some  of  them  very  touching  in 
their  naive  joy  at  seeing  someone  who  brought  news  from  the 
outside  world.  Others  welcomed  me  simply  and  heartily  to 
Soviet   Russia,   and   some  were   very   amusing.      One   man 


WORK  AND  PLAY  IN  THE  RED  ARMY      33 

wrote  in  English,  ''You  danced  very  well."  I  promptly  asked 
him  to  try  it  with  me  and  then  inquired  where  he  had  learned 
English.  He  told  me  that  he  had  been  a  sailor  on  the  Russian- 
American  Steamship  Company's  boats  which  ran  between  New 
York  and  Libau.  The  first  question  he  asked  me  about  the 
United  States  was  "Is  Coney  Island  still  running?" 

In  the  intervals  between  dancing  we  often  adjourned  to 
the  buffet  where  tea  was  dispensed  from  a  big  brass  samovar, 
and  sausage  and  cheese  sandwiches  served.  The  girls  at  the 
party  were  all  from  the  town  or  daughters  of  the  peasants  in 
the  neighborhood.  For  the  most  part  they  were  well  dressed 
and  looked  rosy  and  happy.  I  talked  to  several  girls  as  well 
as  parents  in  Krupki  and  other  towns  in  the  army  zone,  and 
I  never  heard  of  an  instance  of  women  being  outraged  by 
Red  Army  men.  The  relation  between  the  men  and  the  girls 
was  one  of  comradeship  and  absolute  equality.  There  were 
many  army  weddings,  both  civil  and  religious, 

A  few  days  later  I  was  invited  to  amateur  theatricals  fol-' 
lowed  by  a  dance  at  Bober,  another  army  post  a  short  distance 
from  Krupki.  My  interpreter  and  I  drove  over  in  a  sleigh, 
after  an  ineffectual  attempt  to  take  me  in  a  motorcycle.  There 
were  very  few  motorcycles  or  lorries  in  the  army,  and  mes- 
sages and  supplies  were  usually  carried  by  sleigh,  but  in  our 
battalion  there  was  one  decrepit  English  motorcycle.  The 
young  officer  who  operated  it  was  as  proud  of  it  as  a  child, 
and  in  spite  of  the  heavy  snow  assured  me  that  he  could  take 
me  the  thirty-five  versts  to  Bober  and  back.  I  was  ready  on 
time,  and  watched  him  while  he  tinkered  with  the  machine  for 
an  hour.  Finally  he  announced  that  it  was  working  all  right. 
I  got  in  and  we  started  off  at  the  rate  of  about  sixty  miles  an 
hour,  but  suddenly  something  went  wrong,  we  slackened  speed, 
puffed  and  snorted,  turned  around  three  times  and  finally  tried 
to  climb  up  the  steps  of  the  village  school.  Then  we  made 
another  start,  bumped  into  a  telegraph  pole,  and  skidded  off 
into  a  snow  drift.  I  got  out  and  pushed  from  behind  while  the 
driver  tried  to  get  every  possible  ounce  of  power  out  of 
his  wheezy  engine.  Suddenly  he  started  unexpectedly.  I  gave 
a  flying  leap  and  landed  on  all  fours  in  the  side  car,  but  we 


34  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

decided  that  while  the  going  was  good  it  would  be  better  to  go 
back  to  Krupki  and  take  a  sleigh  to  Bober. 

At  Bober  I  had  dinner  with  an  army  physician  and  his 
wife.  Officially  they  were  not  married,  for  it  is  forbidden  for 
a  man  and  wife  to  serve  in  the  same  unit  in  the  Red  Army,  but 
she  acted  as  his  secretary,  and  what  is  more,  the  entire  family 
consisting  of  three  children,  a  cow,  a  pet  goat  and  six  bantam 
chickens  accompanied  them  from  one  army  post  to  another. 
It  was  an  instance  of  "pull,"  which  is  not  confined,  as  I  dis- 
covered, only  to  capitalistic  countries.  Indeed,  there  is  no 
place  where  it  is  more  flourishing  at  the  present  time  than  in 
Russia.  They  were  both  very  intelligent;  he,  while  not  at  all 
in  sympathy  with  the  existing  regime,  was  devoted  to  his 
work.  The  evacuation  hospital  under  his  care  was  at  that  time 
mainly  devoted  to  typhus  and  pneumonia  cases  as  there  was 
practically  an  armistice  on  that  sector  of  the  front,  and  the 
men  wounded  some  weeks  previously  had  all  been  sent  to  the 
rear.  He  told  me  that  some  of  the  most  necessary  medicines 
were  lacking,  but  that  they  obtained  many  drugs  through 
contraband  trade  with  the  Poles.  Actually  the  Red  Army  was 
being  supplied  with  a  considerable  quantity  of  drugs  and 
surgical  supplies  by  its  enemies,  Polish  officers  sometimes 
engaging  in  the  underground  traffic.  At  Orscha,  a  few  days 
later,  I  saw  a  large  room  filled  with  American  Red  Cross 
supplies  that  had  been  bought  from  officers  in  the  Polish  Army. 

The  play  at  Bober  was  a  classical  comedy,  very  well  acted 
and  staged  with  considerable  ingenuity,  for  everything  had 
been  made  by  the  soldiers  themselves.  There  was  one  boy 
of  nineteen,  a  real  artist,  who  played  exquisitely  on  the  violin, 
giving  a  number  of  Russian  dances  and  folk  songs  as  well 
as  one  of  Wieniawski's  Caprices,  which  he  interpreted  in  a 
masterly  manner.  Afterwards  I  was  invited  to  supper  at  the 
Aviators'  Club,  The  aviators  were  all  old  Imperial  army 
officers;  most  of  them  spoke  French  or  German,  and  we  had 
a  very  jolly  time.  From  their  manners  and  conversation  they 
might  have  been  still  in  their  old  environment.  Their  squadron 
possessed,  they  told  me,  only  five  old  French  planes  of  the 


WORK  AND  PLAY  IN  THE  RED  ARMY      35 

1 91 7  model,  petrol  was  scarce  and  the  winter  storms  did  not 
permit  them  to  do  much  flying.  Altogether,  they  said,  the 
air  force  of  the  Red  Army  was  insignificant  and  could  only 
be  counted  on  for  a  small  amount  of  scout  work. 


CHAPTER  IV 
A  TRIP  IN  A  BOX  CAR 

We  had  a  funny  time  getting  away  from  Krupki.  It  was 
an  extremely  good  illustration  of  the  Russians'  quality  of  never 
being  exact  about  anything,  and  their  utter  lack  of  system. 
Our  train  was  to  leave  at  twelve  o'clock  by  the  new  daylight 
saving  schedule  which  went  into  force  on  the  day  fixed  for 
our  departure,  but  the  army  failed  to  move  up  its  clocks  to 
correspond  with  the  railroads,  and  we  arrived  just  an  hour 
late.  Incidentally  the  Bolsheviks  go  in  rather  extensively  for 
daylight  saving.  The  difference  between  summer  and  winter 
time  is  two  and  a  half  hours.  The  next  day  we  were  on  time, 
but  the  commander  of  the  battalion  had  ordered  places  re- 
served for  us  in  the  post-office  car.  The  official  in  charge  of 
the  car  refused  to  admit  us  without  authorization  from  the 
Commissariat  of  Posts  and  Telegraphs,  and  while  he  and  the 
Red  Army  men  who  accompanied  us  to  the  station  were 
disputing  the  train  moved  off.  As  it  was  the  only  train  that 
day,  we  were  obliged  to  spend  another  twenty-four  hours  in 
Krupki. 

Near  the  station  I  inspected  a  German  repatriation  echelon, 
loaded  with  civilians  and  prisoners  of  war,  who  were  being 
repatriated  through  Poland.  It  was  an  up-to-date  sanitary 
train,  complete  in  every  particular,  with  hospital,  kitchen  and 
refrigerator  cars,  steam  heated  and  lighted  by  electricity.  I 
also  saw  on  a  siding  an  ugly  looking  armored  train,  rather 
amateurishly  constructed  from  converted  flat  cars,  the  guns 
being  camouflaged  with  logs  to  make  it  appear  like  a  lumber 
train. 

We  left  Krupki  in  a  box  car  with  the  members  of  a  forestry- 
commission  and  two  Soviet  officials  who  had  been  purchasing 
sole  leather  intended  for  the  Polish  army,  from  Polish  officers 

36 


A  TRIP  IN  A  BOX  CAR  37 

on  the  Beresina  front.  There  were  ten  of  us  in  all,  eight  men, 
my  interpreter  and  myself.  The  six  foresters  were  the  first 
civilian  employees  of  the  Soviet  Government  with  whom  I  had 
been  thrown  in  contact.  They  were  not  in  the  least  interested 
in  politics,  and  the  only  member  of  the  party  who  was  thor- 
oughly discontented  with  the  present  regime  was  a  Jew.  The 
paymaster  was  an  old  man  whom  they  called  babushka,  grand- 
father. He  sat  up  in  a  corner  day  and  night  on  his  money 
chest,  smoked  mahorka  and  never  said  a  word,  but  the  others 
were  very  talkative,  and  I  got  to  know  them  well  on  the  trip 
to  headquarters  at  Vitebsk,  which  took  three  days  and  two 
nights,  including  a  stop  of  some  hours  at  Orscha. 

Our  housekeeping  arrangements  were,  to  say  the  least, 
primitive.  At  both  ends  of  the  car  were  wide  board  shelves 
covered  with  clean  hay,  on  which  we  slept,  five  on  a  side.  In 
the  center  was  a  small  sheet  metal  stove,  around  which  was  a 
bench  roughly  knocked  together  out  of  unplaned  boards.  We 
did  all  our  cooking  on  this  stove.  The  toilet  arrangements 
consisted  of  a  tin  bucket  and  a  dipper.  In  the  morning  when 
I  washed  my  face  and  hands  I  followed  the  example  of  the 
others,  leaning  out  of  the  door  of  the  car,  and  cupping  my 
hands  while  one  of  the  "comrades"  poured  in  water,  with 
which  I  splashed  my  face.  We  made  tea  and  pancakes  on  the 
stove,  and  heated  cans  of  excellent  meats  which,  with  tea, 
black  bread  and  sugar,  were  the  army  traveling  rations. 
My  companion  and  I  were  provided  with  these  at  Krupki. 
After  supper  in  the  evening  we  sat  around  the  stove,  told 
stories  and  the  soldiers  sang  Russian  songs  for  us  by  the 
hour  to  the  accompaniment  of  a  balalaika  with  one  string 
missing. 

At  Orscha  I  was  met  at  the  station  by  the  chairman  of  the 
local  Ispolkom  (executive  committee),  to  whom  I  had  sent  a 
telegram,  as  I  had  a  letter  for  him  from  his  mother,  an  old 
Jewish  lady  who  lived  in  Borisov.  He  took  us  to  his  home, 
where  he  gave  us  a  wonderful  dinner :  "tschi,"  a  Russian  vege- 
table soup,  roast  goose  with  potatoes  and  onions,  Jewish  style, 
pancakes,  with  sour  cream,  tea  and  cakes  and  apples  for 
dessert.     All  the  while  he  kept  telling  me  about  the  terrible 


38  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

food  shortage  in  the  towns.  With  him  I  visited  one  of  the 
"People's  Universities,"  where  they  had  very  good  technical 
courses,  and  classes  for  adult  illiterates,  and  the  hospital,  which 
lacked  the  most  necessary  medicines  and  supplies.  Everything 
available  in  that  line  had  been  requisitioned  by  the  army  and 
the  civilian  population  was  suffering  greatly  in  consequence. 

While  waiting  for  our  box  car,  or  tieplushka,  to  be  attached 
to  the  next  train  which  was  shortly  due,  I  was  invited  to  have 
a  look  at  the  "Agit  Punkt,"  the  army  recreation  and  propa- 
ganda center,  of  which  there  is  one  in  every  large  town 
through  which  troops  pass.  It  was  a  large,  airy  room,  for- 
merly the  first-class  waiting  room.  As  soon  as  I  entered  it 
I  was  struck  with  its  resemblance  to  something  I  had  seen 
before,  then  it  occurred  to  me  that  it  was  as  nearly  as  possible 
like  an  American  "Y"  center.  There  was  the  same  arrange- 
ment of  tables  spread  with  periodicals  and  magazines,  the  same 
type  of  decorations  on  the  walls,  red  flags  and  banners  and 
portraits  of  Lenin  replacing  the  stars  and  stripes  and  pictures 
of  President  Wilson,  an  American  graphophone,  a  moving  pic- 
ture machine,  and  a  platform  with  a  piano  and  arrangements 
for  impromptu  theatricals. 

I  soon  found  out  why.  The  director  was  an  old  American 
"Y"  man — a  Russian  by  birth,  it  was  true,  but  he  had  worked 
with  the  American  Y.  M.  C.  A.  in  Siberia  and  Russia  for 
three  years,  drifting  into  the  Red  Army  to  carry  on  the 
same  work  after  the  departure  of  the  American  workers.  He 
had  been  with  them  long  enough  to  become  thoroughly  imbued 
with  American  ideas  and  was  genuinely  homesick  for  his  old 
environment. 

We  arrived  in  Vitebsk  early  in  the  morning,  and  the  doctor 
and  I  accompanied  by  an  army  dentist  who  had  traveled  with 
us  from  Orscha,  went  to  report  at  Division  Headquarters. 
We  had  all  this  time  been  traveling  from  place  to  place  on 
army  safe  conducts,  which  carried  us  as  far  as  Vitebsk,  and  it 
was  necessary,  we  were  told,  for  us  to  get  permission  from  the 
general  headquarters  of  the  Seventeenth  Army  at  Smolensk 
to  take  us  through  to  Moscow.  Division  headquarters  were  in 
a  large  ramshackle  building  which  had  formerly  been  used  as 


A  TRIP  IN  A  BOX  CAR  89 

a  hotel,  all  the  rooms  being  occupied  by  staff  offices.  The 
political  commissar,  a  pleasant  but  rather  ignorant  man,  who 
struck  me  as  being  much  too  young  and  inexperienced  for  his 
job,  interviewed  us,  asking  comparatively  few  questions,  and 
promised  to  telegraph  immediately  for  a  permit  for  us  to 
proceed  to  Moscow. 

He  told  us  that  his  wife  had  been  anxious  for  some  time 
to  go  to  Moscow,  but  had  been  unable  to  obtain  permission 
as  she  had  no  business  there  which  would  entitle  her  to  a 
Commandirovka,  as  official  traveling  orders  are  called  in  Russia, 
and  that  sending  her  as  our  escort  would  be  an  excellent  pre- 
text for  getting  her  there. 

While  we  were  waiting  we  were  shown  over  headquarters, 
inspecting  the  commissary  department,  where  we  found  a 
very  efficient  looking  officer  examining  samples  of  flour  for 
army  use.  He  was  well  qualified  for  his  job,  for  he  had  been 
a  baker  before  the  Revolution.  The  topographical  section  was 
well  equipped  with  maps,  and  the  communications  seemed  to 
be  in  excellent  working  order,  judging  from  the  number  of 
telegraph  and  telephone  instruments  in  operation.  The  com- 
manding general  was  an  austere  looking  man,  evidently  a 
former  Imperial  officer,  for  he  clicked  his  heels  together  and 
made  a  stiff  little  bow  when  we  were  presented  to  him.  He 
had  perfect  manners,  but  seemed  rather  diffident  and  uncom- 
municative. My  judgment  was  that  he  was  decidedly  uncom- 
fortable in  his  present  position,  and  was  watched  rather  closely, 
for  the  political  commissar  never  left  us  for  a  minute  and 
did  most  of  the  talking.  The  permit  for  us  to  go  to  Moscow 
arrived  within  an  hour,  and  we  were  told  that  the  train  would 
leave  at  seven  in  the  evening.  Meanwhile  perhaps  we  would 
like  to  see  the  town.  We  said  that  we  would  very  much, 
and  set  out  in  a  sleigh,  with  a  pleasant  young  commissar  as 
our  escort. 

The  first  place  we  visited  was  the  military  hospital  which 
was  clean  and  very  well  run,  situated  on  a  high  hill,  where  are 
grouped  most  of  the  churches,  former  government  buildings 
and  the  houses  of  the  bourgeoisie.  The  buildings  were  sub- 
stantial structures  of  stone  or  concrete,  painted  pink  or  white, 


40  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

some  of  them  beautiful  examples  of  the  Russian  Empire  style 
dating  from  the  early  days  of  the  nineteenth  century.  The 
streets  in  this  part  of  the  town  were  broad  and  fairly  clean, 
with  trees,  public  squares  and  picturesque  glimpses  of  the 
frozen  Dnieper  winding  around  the  foot  of  the  hill  where  were 
the  railroad  station  and  the  dirty,  forlorn  buildings  of  the  lower 
town.  These  consisted  mostly  of  small  Jewish  shops,  nearly 
all  of  which  were  closed,  though  "free  trade"  was  still  nom- 
inally in  force  in  Vitebsk.  In  the  shops  which  were  still  open 
the  shelves  were  nearly  bare  of  general  merchandise,  but  the 
food  stores  exhibited  geese  and  chickens,  some  meat,  white 
bread,  cakes  and  a  few  withered  apples.  Here  and  there  a 
cafe  was  open.  In  one  of  these  we  had  imitation  coffee  flavored 
with  saccharin  and  watered  milk,  and  some  insipid  little  cakes, 
the  former  three  hundred  roubles  a  glass,  the  latter  five  hundred 
roubles  apiece.  The  place  was  literally  infested  with  beg- 
gars and  apparently  no  effort  was  made  to  control  them.  They 
were  mostly  Jews,  for  Vitebsk  was  on  the  edge  of  what  was 
known  as  the  Jewish  Pale,  the  extreme  Eastern  limit  of  the 
zone  wherein  Jews  were  permitted  to  live  in  the  old  days,  and 
it  was  a  lively  trading  center  between  Central  Russia  and 
Poland. 

The  Revolution  had  put  all  these  small  traders  out  of  busi- 
ness, there  were  neither  factories  nor  a  multiplicity  of  Soviet 
offices  to  absorb  the  workers,  and  those  who  were  not  con- 
scripted for  the  Red  Army  or  employed  in  one  of  the  govern- 
ment departments  were  living  in  direst  poverty.  The  offi- 
cial bread  ration  for  those  not  classed  as  heavy  workers  was 
one-half  a  pound  of  black  bread  a  day,  and  a  little  soup  and 
kasha,  which  they  obtained  at  the  Soviet  dining  rooms.  The 
fare  in  the  children's  dining  rooms  was  better  than  that  for 
adults,  but  they  had  no  fats  and  no  milk.  Salt  was  almost 
impossible  to  get  and  the  people  were  desperate  for  lack  of  it. 
We  had  dinner  in  the  dining  room  for  the  employees  of  the 
general  staff.  It  consisted  of  cabbage  soup  and  kasha,  and  the 
employees  had  to  bring  their  own  bread. 

Typhus  was  epidemic  in  the  town,  there  were  practically 
no  disinfectants,  soap  or  medicines,  and  the  hospitals  were 


A  TRIP  IN  A  BOX  CAR  41 

not  able  to  accommodate  even  a  small  percentage  of  the  vic- 
tims. In  the  afternoon,  when  we  were  left  to  wander  about 
by  ourselves,  we  visited  a  civilian  hospital  with  a  capacity  of 
one  hundred  beds,  which  contained  two  hundred  and  forty 
patients,  all  ill  with  typhus.  They  were  lying  on  straw  pallets 
on  the  floors  in  the  wards  and  in  the  hallways.  On  many  of 
the  beds  the  linen  had  not  been  changed  for  over  a  month; 
some  of  the  patients  were  lying  in  bed  quite  naked,  or  covered 
with  filthy  rags. 

In  spite  of  the  frightful  appearance  of  everything  the  doc- 
tor told  us  that  the  death  rate  among  the  patients  was  not 
over  ten  per  cent.,  as  they  were  mostly  peasants.  Typhus  has 
been  endemic  so  long  in  Russia  that  the  lower  classes  are 
semi-immunized  and  the  death  rate  is  always  in  inverse  ratio 
to  the  intelligence  of  the  population.  Among  persons  of  the 
upper  class  it  is  twenty  per  cent  and  it  is  highest  among  the 
medical  personnel,  who  are  usually  in  poor  condition  to  resist 
attacks  from  epidemics,  owing  to  the  fact  that  they  are  all 
overworked  and  undernourished.  The  death  rate  among  doc- 
tors in  Russia  during  the  past  three  years  has  been  nearly 
forty  per  cent. 

Two  of  the  most  interesting  places  we  visited  in  Vitebsk 
were  the  Army  Political  School  and  the  Vitebsk  branch  of  the 
Commissariat  of  Nationalities.  The  former  was  for  Red 
Army  officers,  men  and  political  commissars.  It  was  in  a 
large  building  formerly  used  as  a  gymnasium  or  high  school 
by  the  Russian  government.  Daily  classes  were  held  in  history, 
political  economy,  the  history  of  the  Socialist  movement, 
Marxism,  the  principles  of  the  Communist  Dictatorship,  and 
Communist  propaganda  workers  were  trained  for  field  service 
in  the  army  and  among  the  peasant  population.  There  were 
also  classes  in  journalism  for  those  who  wished  to  acquire  the 
art  of  writing  the  propaganda  leaflets  and  brochures  with 
which  Russia  is  deluged  at  the  present  time,  and  art  classes 
for  designers  of  Bolshevik  posters.  We  saw  a  rehearsal  by 
the  dramatic  club,  of  a  Revolutionary  play  which  was  to  be 
given  at  the  main  theater  in  a  few  weeks. 

The  Commissariat  of  Nationalities  was  divided  into  four 


42  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

sections,  Russian,  White  Russian,  Polish  and  Jewish.  I 
found  that  the  Soviet  Government  was  placing  no  bar  in  the 
way  of  nationalistic  feeling  or  aspirations.  Each  nationality 
was  permitted  to  issue  its  own  bulletins,  and  its  own  books  and 
pamphlets,  whenever  the  limited  supply  of  paper  and  printers' 
ink  permitted  their  publication,  and  the  schools  were  conducted 
in  all  four  languages.  There  was  even  a  Polish  school,  where 
the  little  Poles,  however,  were  taught  to  become  good  Com- 
munists. The  churches  were  in  the  same  position,  and  Catho- 
lic, Uniate  and  Orthodox  churches  flourished  side  by  side 
with  the  synagogues.  There  had  been  no  very  great  effort  to 
introduce  a  strictly  Communistic  system;  free  trade  was  per- 
mitted because  the  Soviet  stores  were  obviously  unable  to  give 
the  people  merchandise;  many  people  had  been  left  in  undis- 
turbed possession  of  their  own  homes,  because  there  was  no 
demand  for  lodgings,  many  of  the  population  having  emigrated 
further  east  owing  to  the  proximity  of  Vitebsk  to  the  war 
zone.  The  general  impression  I  got  was  of  great  squalor  and 
misery  caused  by  the  war  and  the  blockade,  of  general  con- 
fusion and  impermanence,  with  no  evidence  of  either  the 
benefits  or  disadvantages  caused  by  Soviet  rule. 

We  left  Vitebsk  that  evening,  traveling  in  the  army  staff 
car  with  the  commissar's  lady,  who  proved  a  very  good- 
natured  but  stupid  companion,  and  a  soldier  who  was  detailed 
to  carry  our  luggage  and  wait  on  us  generally.  As  far  as 
Orscha  we  occupied  an  ordinary  second-class  compartment, 
but  there  we  changed  to  a  staff  sleeping  car  which  was  to  take 
us  the  thirty-six-hour  journey  to  Moscow.  At  Orscha,  where 
we  arrived  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  and  had  to  wait  for  six 
hours,  we  found  several  regiments  on  the  move.  The  station 
was  literally  one  mass  of  filthy  humanity.  Every  inch  of  floor 
space  was  covered  with  sleeping  soldiers  with  indescribably 
dirty  bedding  rolls,  bags  and  knapsacks.  They  slept  over- 
lapping, and  the  air  was  foul  beyond  description.  Fortunately 
I  found  my  "Y"  man,  who  had  not  yet  gone  to  bed,  and  he 
let  us  into  the  recreation  room  which  had  been  locked  up  for 
the  night,  where  we  slept  on  benches  until  it  was  time  for 
our  train  to  leave. 


A  TRIP  IN  A  BOX  CAR  43 

Our  quarters  in  the  staff  car  were  close,  to  say  the  least, 
but  we  were  lucky,  it  seemed,  to  have  those.  A  compartment 
for  two  was  reserved  for  the  four  of  us,  and  there,  with  the 
exception  of  a  few  venturesome  visits  to  the  toilet,  we  spent 
the  next  thirty-six  hours.  I  occupied  the  lower  berth,  the 
doctor  and  the  commissar's  wife  the  upper  berth,  and  the 
soldier  slept  on  the  floor.  It  was  stiflingly  hot,  and  the  window 
was  hermetically  sealed.  Standing  in  the  corridor  was  impos- 
sible, because  it  was  already  filled  with  a  solid  mass  of  sol- 
diers, who  insisted  in  defiance  of  discipline  on  occupying  it. 
They  made  it  almost  impossible  for  us  to  open  the  door  and 
our  escort  had  to  fight  his  way  out  to  get  hot  water  to  make 
our  tea  from  the  samovar  machines  that  are  in  operation  at 
each  station. 

The  rest  of  the  train,  which  was  entirely  composed  of 
box  cars,  was  packed,  people  even  sitting  on  the  roofs,  and 
bumpers,  and  there  were  fights  at  every  station  between  persons 
trying  to  get  on  and  off.  The  country  through  which  we 
passed  was  mostly  flat  and  uninteresting,  though  it  had  a 
certain  historical  interest  for  me  as  the  region  through 
which  Napoleon  passed  in  his  Russian  campaign.  I  had  fol- 
lowed pretty  much  the  same  general  route  as  the  Imperial 
jEagles,  all  the  way  from  Borisov,  where  there  was  a  column 
to  commemorate  his  crossing  of  the  Beresina,  and  a  small  house 
just  outside  the  town,  where  tradition  has  it  that  he  spent 
the  night. 

We  arrived  at  the  Alexandrovsky  Station,  Moscow,  early 
in  the  morning  of  the  second  day.  There  the  army's  respon- 
sibility for  us  ended,  and  as  I  had  no  credentials  to  stay  in 
Moscow  I  asked  the  doctor  to  telephone  to  the  Foreign  Office 
to  announce  our  arrival.  She  was  told  rather  shortly  that  a 
representative  of  the  Western  Section  would  be  sent  to  meet 
us  and  that  we  were  not  to  leave  the  station  until  his  arrival. 
Meanwhile  I  tried  to  spell  out  the  news  in  the  "Pravda," 
which  I  had  purchased  at  the  news  stand,  for  a  limited  number 
of  papers  were  on  public  sale  in  Moscow  at  that  time,  and  I 
wondered  what  was  coming  next.  So  far  so  good,  but  the 
Foreign  Office  at  least  was  utterly  unaware  of  the  fact  that 


44  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

I  had  already  spent  two  weeks  in  Soviet  Russia.  Whether  my 
presence  was  known  or  not  to  the  secret  poHce  of  the  Extraor- 
dinary Commission,  they  certainly  had  done  nothing  so  far 
to  stop  me. 


CHAPTER  V 

AN  UNWELCOME  GUEST 

In  about  half  an  hour  I  saw  a  small  thin,  dark,  nervous- 
looking  man  with  a  pronounced  stoop  that  made  him  appear 
almost  like  a  hunchback  enter  the  waiting  room,  glancing  about 
as  if  he  were  looking  for  someone.  "That  is  the  man  from 
the  Foreign  Office,"  I  thought.  In  two  seconds  he  had  singled 
me  out,  and  made  straight  for  the  corner  where  I  was  sitting. 
"Good  morning,"  he  said  curtly  in  excellent  English,  "I'm 
Rosenberg,  head  of  the  Western  Section  of  the  Foreign  Office. 
Will  you  be  good  enough  to  tell  me  how  you  got  to  Moscow?" 
I  explained  while  he  stood  holding  his  despatch  case,  nervously 
biting  his  underlip,  a  characteristic  gesture.  When  I  had  fin- 
ished he  looked  at  me  severely.  "Do  you  know  that  you 
have  done  a  perfectly  illegal  and  very  dangerous  thing  in 
coming  to  Moscow  without  permission?"  he  demanded. 

I  replied  that  I  had  traveled  openly  with  safe  conducts 
from  the  Red  Army,  and  that  if  it  had  chosen  it  could  have 
stopped  me  and  sent  me  back  at  any  time.  "That  is  true,"  he 
returned,  "and  for  that  reason  we  will  give  you  a  hearing. 
You  are  not  entirely  to  blame,  and  those  who  were  responsible 
for  your  entering  the  country  will  be  held  to  account,  but  I 
warn  you  that  you  have  rendered  yourself  liable  to  immediate 
deportation  if  not  something  worse" — this  with  a  searching 
look  that  gave  me  a  decidedly  uncomfortable  feeling — "come 
this  way,  please,"  and  so  saying  he  led  the  way  to  a  small  room 
which  belonged  to  one  of  the  station  officials.  Once  there 
he  carefully  closed  the  door. 

"Now  hand  over  your  passport  and  all  your  papers,"  he 
said.  I  obeyed,  pulling  out  letters  of  introduction,  credentials, 
letters  to  private  persons  and  the  notes  I  had  niade  whiV  with 
the  Red  Army. 

45 


46  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

"Is  that  all?"  he  asked.    I  assured  him  that  it  was. 

"And  who  is  this  woman?"  he  inquired,  turning  to  the 
little  doctor,  who  had  stood  all  the  while,  very  red  in  the 
face,  not  daring  to  say  a  word.  She  handed  over  her  papers, 
which  he  glanced  at  and  tucked  in  his  despatch  case. 

Then  he  explained  to  me  that  the  present  policy  of  the 
Foreign  Office  was  to  admit  but  a  small  number  of  correspon- 
dents from  bourgeois  papers,  and  then  only  after  their  cre- 
dentials had  been  carefully  passed  on  by  Chicherin;  that  he 
had  already  refused  admission  to  representatives  of  the  Asso- 
ciated Press  and  the  Evening  Post,  and  that  my  presence  would 
be  a  source  of  considerable  embarrassment  to  the  Foreign 
Office.  I  presented  my  side  of  the  case  as  well  as  I  knew  how, 
and  the  upshot  of  it  all  was  that  he  agreed  to  put  the  matter 
before  Chicherin,  and  to  permit  me  to  remain  in  Moscow  for 
the  night,  pending  his  decision.  He  retained  the  papers,  but 
the  rest  of  our  luggage  was  packed  into  a  waiting  limousine, 
in  which  we  were  whirled  away  to  the  government  guest  house, 
where  I  was  to  be  virtually  under  house  arrest  until  the  Foreign 
Office  had  decided  what  was  to  be  done  with  me. 

My  first  glimpse  of  Moscow  did  not  produce  the  impres- 
sion of  utter  desolation  that  most  travelers  experience  on  their 
arrival  in  Russia  at  the  present  time.  It  was  probably  because 
I  had  become  accustomed  by  degrees  to  ruin  and  disrepair 
through  long  sojourn  in  war-ridden  countries.  I  had  been  in 
Germany  and  Belgium  immediately  after  the  Armistice ;  in  the 
previous  December  I  had  passed  through  Vienna  which  was 
almost  as  badly  off  as  Moscow;  then  I  had  spent  over  two 
months  in  Minsk  and  Vilna,  which  had  been  despoiled  in 
turn  by  Germans  and  Bolsheviks,  and  finally  turned  over  to  the 
none  too  tender  mercies  of  the  Polish  occupation.  Boarded 
shops,  deserted  streets,  houses  with  the  paint  peehng  off  their 
mouldy  fagades,  snow  blocked  pavements,  long  lines  of  pa- 
tient citizens  waiting  outside  government  shops  for  rations 
were  no  new  sight  to  me. 

The  people  I  saw  on  the  street,  every  other  one  of  whom 
was  dragging  a  little  sled  laden  with  wood,  bundles  or  provi- 
sions, were  for  the  most  part  better  dressed  and  seemed  better 


AN  UNWELCOME  GUEST  47 

nourished  than  the  people  I  had  seen  in  Minsk  or  Vienna.  Out- 
side of  the  station  and  in  the  public  squares  there  were  plenty 
of  sleighs,  with  their  picturesque  isvostchiks,  or  Russian  cab- 
bies, in  long  coats  of  black,  green,  or  blue  cloth,  belted  with 
metal-studded  girdles  or  barbaric  colored  sashes.  Occasionally 
well  dressed  men  and  women  dashed  by  in  luxurious  sleighs 
with  tinkling  bells  and  fur  robes.  The  only  sinister  impression 
I  received  was  from  the  flocks  of  ravens  who  hovered  over  the 
city,  sat  in  the  bare  branches  of  the  trees  in  the  parks  and  on 
the  eaves  of  all  the  buildings.  They  are  as  thick  in  Moscow 
during  the  winter  as  the  pigeons  around  St.  Paul's  in  London 
or  in  the  Piazza  of  St.  Mark  in  Venice,  and  almost  as  tame. 

All  the  public  buildings  were  decorated  with  red  flags  and 
banners,  for  it  was  the  second  anniversary  of  the  founding  of 
the  Red  Army,  and  Moscow  was  in  festival  attire.  Many  of 
them  displayed  huge  canvases  showing  brawny  workers  holding 
aloft  the  banner  of  the  proletariat  against  a  background  of 
smoking  factories  and  workmen's  homes.  At  every  comer 
were  propaganda  placards  urging  support  of  the  working  army, 
for  an  early  peace  with  Poland  was  anticipated,  peace  with 
Esthonia  had  recently  been  signed,  and  the  government  was 
conducting  a  great  campaign  in  support  of  Trotzki's  plan  for 
the  re-mobilization  of  the  Red  Army  in  a  vast  scheme  of  recon- 
struction. 

Here  and  there  were  posters  against  the  Entente,  showing 
the  capitalists  of  the  world  sitting  on  their  money  bags  and 
lording  it  over  the  workers,  Lloyd  George  handing  out  toy 
battleships  and  cannon  to  Yudenitch  and  Denikin,  caricatures 
of  the  "Big  Four"  at  Versailles,  and  various  other  cartoons 
of  that  character.  Most  of  them  were  crudely  but  vigorously 
drawn,  startling  as  to  color  and  design,  but  remarkably  direct 
in  their  conveyance  of  a  concrete  idea. 

We  passed  swiftly  down  the  Tverskaya,  Moscow's  former 
shopping  thoroughfare,  into  the  Kusnetsky  Most,  where  were 
formerly  the  great  jewelers,  and  the  most  exclusive  shops,  up 
the  Miasnitskaya,  where  I  noticed  the  closed  offices  of  the 
Westinghouse  Company  and  the  Singer  Sewing  Machine,  and 
into  a  small  side  street,   the   Mali   Haritonevski,  where  we 


48  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

stopped  before  number  ten,  the  government  guest  house  which 
was  to  be  my  home,  though  I  did  not  reahze  it  at  the  time, 
with  a  few  interludes,  for  eight  months. 

It  had  been  the  private  residence  of  a  German  named 
Roelich,  who  was  one  of  Moscow's  richest  merchants.  Though 
it  had  suffered  severely  in  the  anti-German  riots  of  191 5, 
when  it  was  attacked  by  a  mob,  and  had  been  further  despoiled 
during  the  early  days  of  disorder  following  the  October  Revo- 
lution, it  was  still  comfortably,  even  luxuriously,  furnished. 
We  were  taken  into  a  beautiful  oak-paneled  dining  room  where 
our  baggage  was  courteously  searched  by  an  employee  of  the 
Foreign  Office.  I  was  allowed  to  retain  my  typewriter,  and 
nothing  was  taken  but  my  kodak  and  films.  After  this  for- 
mality we  were  shown  to  a  large  room  with  a  brass  bed  with 
box  springs  which  looked  good  to  me  after  my  Red  Army 
experiences,  comfortable  arm  chairs,  an  electric  bed  lamp, 
and  an  enormous  sofa  which  was  to  serve  as  the  bed  for  the 
doctor. 

Soon  dinner  was  announced,  and  in  the  dining  room  I  met 
the  other  foreign  guests,  Michael  Farbman,  then  correspondent 
of  the  Chicago  Daily  News,  a  Norwegian  business  man  named 
Jonas  Lied,  and  a  Korean,  Pak,  who  was  the  official  delegate 
to  Russia  of  the  Korean  Socialist  party.  There  were  also 
several  Russians,  among  whom  was  a  man  called  Siriazhnikov, 
who  had  lived  for  some  time  in  the  United  States  and  organized 
the  first  Russian  cooperatives  on  the  Pacific  Coast.  The  re- 
maining guests  were  several  Russians  employed  in  the  Foreign 
Office  and  a  potentate  from  Boukhara  who  ate  all  his  meals, 
prepared  by  a  native  attendant,  in  his  room.  He  had  many 
visitors,  but  rarely  appeared  himself,  except  to  flit  to  and  fro 
from  his  bath  wearing  a  gorgeous  smoking  jacket,  a  round 
embroidered  cap  and  stealthy  velvet  slippers. 

Dinner,  which  was  typical  of  the  meals  served  in  other 
guest  houses  and  hotels  for  government  employees,  was  as 
follows :  A  thin  meat  soup,  thickened  with  cereal  or  noodles 
made  of  rye  flour,  mashed  potatoes  or  kasha,  tea,  black  bread 
and  sugar.  It  was  served  at  two  o'clock.  Supper,  at  nine 
o'clock,  consisted  of  Soviet  macaroni,  kasha  or  mashed  pota- 


AN  UNWELCOME  GUEST  49 

toes,  black  bread  and  tea.  Breakfast,  between  nine  and  ten,  was 
tea  or  Soviet  coffee,  black  bread  and  margarine  or  butter,  and 
two  teaspoons  of  sugar.  This  was  substantially  my  diet  for 
my  entire  stay,  except  when  I  purchased  eggs,  milk,  fruit  or 
other  luxuries  in  the  markets,  or  when  I  was  invited  to  private 
homes  or  patronized  illegal  restaurants. 

Once  or  twice  a  week  our  dinner  menu  was  varied  by  the 
addition  of  boiled  salt  pork,  horse  or  mutton,  either  as  a  sepa- 
rate dish,  or,  more  often,  incorporated  sparingly  in  the  mashed 
potatoes.  Occasionally  we  had  a  small  tin  of  canned  fish  or  a 
piece  of  cheese  for  supper,  and  about  once  in  two  weeks  we 
had  stewed  fruit  in  season.  In  winter  it  was  Russian  cran- 
berries, thickened  with  potato  flour  and  flavored  with  saccha- 
rin. When  sugar  was  scarce  we  had  two  bonbons  with  our 
tea  instead  of  sugar.  This  was  far  better  than  the  average 
ration  of  the  ordinary  citizen  in  Moscow  at  that  time.  We  also 
received  as  part  of  our  ration  twenty-five  cigarettes  every  other 
day. 

Despite  the  uncertainty  as  to  my  fate  I  spent  the  first 
evening  very  agreeably,  and  enjoyed  a  fine  rest  in  the  comfor- 
table bed.  When  I  asked  if  I  might  take  a  bath  in  the  beautiful 
tiled  bathroom  I  was  told  that  there  was  hot  water  every 
Wednesday,  and  that  I  would  have  to  wait  until  then  if  I 
wanted  it  hot.  The  scramble  for  the  bath  on  Wednesdays 
was  very  amusing.  No  one  made  any  engagements  for  that 
afternoon  if  possible,  as  hot  water  was  on  tap  only  from 
twelve  noon  till  eight  in  the  evening,  and  it  was  necessary  to 
hang  around  and  watch  for  your  turn. 

I  was  fully  prepared  to  do  my  own  chamberwork  the  next 
morning,  as  I  had  imagined  that  in  Soviet  Russia  there  were 
no  servants,  but  I  discovered  that  we  had  four. 

The  heavy  work  was  done  by  prisoners  who  were  sen- 
tenced to  compulsory  labor  for  speculation  or  violation  of 
other  decrees  of  the  Soviet  Government.  They  came  in  squads 
periodically  with  armed  guards,  and  washed  floors  and  win- 
dows. The  house  servants  were  apparently  not  subject  to  the 
rules  regulating  the  employment  of  labor,  for  they  worked 
from  eight  in  the  morning  till  eleven  or  twelve  at  night,  and 


50  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

scarcely  ever  had  any  time  off.  Occasionally  they  were  given 
tickets  to  the  theater.  They  received  a  small  stipend,  their 
clothes,  and  the  regular  workers'  payok  or  rations,  supple- 
mented by  tips  and  presents  of  food  from  the  foreign  guests. 
The  laundress  slaved  from  early  morning  till  late  evening 
doing  all  the  house  wash  as  well  as  the  personal  laundry  of  the 
guests,  who  varied  in  number  from  ten  to  fourteen. 

Once  during  the  summer  the  Foreign  Office  attempted  to 
cut  off  their  payok  on  the  ground  that  as  many  of  the  guests 
frequently  stayed  out  for  meals  what  was  left  over  from  our 
table  would  be  sufficient  for  them,  but  they  struck,  and  kept 
their  rations,  which  they  sent  home  to  their  families. 

This  state  of  affairs  struck  me  as  rather  inconsistent,  but 
I  later  found  that  the  servant  class,  like  many  other  bourgeois 
institutions,  had  by  no  means  disappeared  in  Russia.  Many  of 
my  Russian  friends  kept  at  least  one  maid,  and  I  knew  of 
several  commissars  who  did  the  same. 

Once  I  received  a  visit  from  a  girl  who  had  been  employed 
at  the  Savoy  Hotel,  also  a  government  guest  house,  where  I 
spent  several  weeks.  She  was  a  Lett,  and  was  anxious  to 
secure  a  position  as  cook  to  the  Russian  mission,  then  leaving 
for  Riga  with  a  retinue  of  servants  to  negotiate  peace  with 
Poland.  She  asked  me  to  recommend  her  to  Yoffe,  chief  of 
the  mission,  who  often  visited  the  Haritonevski,  and  gave  as  a 
reference  Mme.  Steklov,  wife  of  the  editor  of  the  Isvestia,  with 
whom  she  had  lived  for  over  a  year,  and  she  told  me  that  they 
employed  three  servants.  The  Trotzkis  also  keep  several  serv- 
ants, and  I  often  saw  the  Trotzki  children  in  a  private  victoria 
with  a  very  correct  looking  coachman  driving  through  the 
streets  of  Moscow. 

Of  course  all  this  is  in  direct  contradiction  to  Marxian 
theories,  but  the  Communists  in  practice  are  not  averse  to 
accepting  the  services  of  that  portion  of  the  proletariat  which 
has  not  yet  become  class  conscious,  and  is  perfectly  content 
to  remain  as  "hired  help.'  In  justice  to  Soviet  principles  it 
must  be  said,  however,  that  the  authorities  recognize  the  fact 
that  brain  workers  must  have  time  free  for  work  in  their 
special  field,  and  that  they  do  not  object  to  the  employment 


AN  UNWELCOME  GUEST  61 

of  labor  to  do  the  manual  tasks  for  those  engaged  in  more 
important  activities. 

Eventually,  in  an  ideal  Communist  state,  the  Communists  say, 
there  will  be  no  need  for  labor  of  this  class.  All  meals  will 
be  served  in  the  public  dining  rooms,  all  washing  done  in  the 
community  laundries,  children  will  be  all  cared  for  in  Soviet 
homes  and  nurseries,  apartments  heated  from  a  central  plant, 
and  cleaned  by  government  workers.  But  at  present  it  is  im- 
possible to  organize  things  on  this  basis.  Domestic  service  is 
a  relic  of  capitalism  which  will  disappear  in  due  time,  but  mean- 
while it  is  not  worth  while  to  regulate  it,  as  it  is  only  a  tem- 
porary phase. 

Shortly  after  breakfast  Rosenberg  appeared  with  a  car, 
and  took  me  to  the  Foreign  Office,  where  I  was  told  that 
Chicherin  had  determined  to  allow  me  to  remain  in  Moscow 
for  two  weeks.  I  sent  a  radio  to  the  Associated  Press  an- 
nouncing my  arrival,  arranged  for  an  interview  with  Chicherin 
for  the  next  day,  and  settled  down  to  life  in  my  new  quarters, 
which  were  most  comfortable.  We  had  a  billiard  room,  and 
there  was  a  big  garden  behind  the  house,  to  which  access  was 
had  from  a  terrace  opening  out  of  the  dining  room.  The 
table  linen  was  of  the  best,  and  we  used  real  silver  forks  and 
knives  for  some  time,  when  some  of  the  cutlery  was  stolen, 
which  resulted  in  the  substitution  of  plated  ware.  Our  bed 
linen  was  changed  every  two  weeks,  and  all  our  laundry  was 
done  in  the  house.  At  first  we  paid  nothing  at  all  for  this 
service,  but  afterwards  the  Foreign  Office  instituted  a  tariff 
of  seven  hundred  and  fifty  roubles  a  day,  explaining  rather 
naively  as  the  reason  that  Soviet  emissaries  in  other  countries 
were  invariably  charged  for  their  accommodations. 


CHAPTER  VI 
NEWS  GATHERING  IN  MOSCOW 

On  the  morning  after  my  arrival,  having  been  provided 
with  the  necessary  documents  of  identity,  I  started  to  take  a 
walk  through  the  town,  and  happened  to  see  a  most  picturesque 
ceremony,  the  funeral  of  the  Commissar  of  Posts  and  Tele- 
graphs. It  took  place  from  the  building  of  the  Moscow 
Soviet,  a  beautiful  early  nineteenth  century  structure  facing 
what  is  now  known  as  the  Soviet  square,  which  is  adorned  with 
a  new  monument  commemorating  the  Revolution.  He  was 
to  be  buried  in  the  Red  Square,  at  the  base  of  the  Kremlin, 
with  the  victims  of  the  October  Revolution.  Long  before  the 
time  appointed  for  the  funeral  the  employees  of  the  various 
departments  of  the  commissariat  began  to  assemble  in  the 
square,  each  section  carrying  its  own  banner  draped  in  black. 
There  must  have  been  several  thousand  of  them.  All  along 
the  route  of  the  cortege  Red  Armists,  as  the  Red  Army  soldiers 
are  called  in  Russia,  were  stationed  at  intervals,  and  cavalry- 
men with  khaki  coats  and  the  bright  pink  trousers  of  the  old 
imperial  cavalry  dashed  up  and  down  giving  orders,  and  hold- 
ing back  the  crowds  which  began  to  gather  early  from  all  direc- 
tions. Then  delegations  from  workmen's  clubs  and  trades 
unions  commenced  to  arrive  carrying  banners  and  standards; 
among  them  I  even  noticed  an  Anarchists'  Club  with  a  huge 
black  flag,  curiously  somber  and  menacing  in  the  blur  of  red. 

An  old  white  hearse,  harnessed  with  six  white  horses,  and 
attended  by  six  professional  pallbearers  in  white  frock  coats 
and  gloves  and  antiquated  white  silk  beaver  hats,  was  waiting 
to  receive  the  coffin,  but  when  it  emerged  from  the  building, 
carried  on  the  shoulders  of  ten  sturdy  Red  Armists,  covered 
with  a  red  flag  like  a  huge  blood  spot,  I  could  not  help  thinking 
how  out  of  place  and  incongruous  it  would  look  on  the  preten- 

52 


NEWS  GATHERING  IN  MOSCOW      53 

tious  bier  that  had  probably  carried  many  an  Imperial  func- 
tionary to  his  last  resting  place. 

The  commissar's  comrades  evidently  thought  so  too,  for 
they  never  even  glanced  in  the  direction  of  the  waiting  hearse 
with  its  plumes  and  outriders,  but  turned  slowly  down  the 
street,  followed  by  the  huge  silent  cortege  with  bared  heads.  In 
front  of  the  coffin  marched  a  Red  Army  band,  playing  the 
glorious  funeral  march  of  the  Nihilists,  which  has  been  adopted 
by  the  Communists  as  their  own.  At  intervals  other  bands 
took  up  the  hymn,  one  by  one,  as  they  filed  into  line. 

In  the  Red  Square  a  guard  of  honor  was  assembled  around 
the  open  grave,  and  the  Commissar  was  laid  to  rest  with  his 
dead  comrades  without  benefit  of  clergy,  according  to  Karl 
Marx,  Kamenev,  the  president  of  the  Moscow  Soviet,  and 
other  speakers  paying  warm  tributes  to  his  singleness  of 
purpose  and  devotion  to  the  cause  of  Communism.  The 
grave  was  filled,  the  bare  earth  covered  with  a  mass  of  green 
wreaths  and  Red  streamers,  and  the  simple  ceremony  was 
over.  A  little  more  than  half  a  year  later  another  funeral 
took  place  in  the  Red  Square,  but  I  was  not  there  to  see  it, 
being  at  that  time  in  prison.  It  was  that  of  John  Reed,  the 
leader  of  the  American  Communist  party. 

My  interview  with  Chicherin  took  place  on  the  evening  of 
my  second  day  in  Moscow.  The  appointment  was  at  twelve 
o'clock,  for  Chicherin  only  works  at  night,  and  it  was  nearly 
two  before  I  was  finally  shown  into  his  room,  where  he  sat 
in  front  of  a  huge  table  desk  buried  under  an  avalanche  of 
documents  and  papers.  I  had  expected  to  see  a  tall,  self-confi- 
dent, rather  masterful  looking  person,  but  instead  I  saw  a  thin, 
delicate  looking  man  of  about  forty-eight,  with  sandy  hair, 
decidedly  thin  around  the  temples,  and  a  small  pointed  blond 
beard  and  mustache.  Around  his  neck  was  a  woolen  muflfler 
which  almost  concealed  his  chin.  During  the  entire  winter 
and  well  into  the  spring  I  never  saw  him  without  it.  His  pale 
greenish-blue  eyes  had  the  strained  expression  that  comes  from 
overwork,  and  as  he  talked  to  me  he  kept  interlacing  his  long 
sensitive  fingers,  that,  without  a  further  glance  at  his  physi- 
ognomy, proclaimed  him  what  he  essentially  is,  a  man  of  cul- 


54  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

ture  and  a  gentleman.  There  seem  to  be  so  many  misapprehen- 
sions about  many  of  the  People's  Commissars  that  I  will  re- 
peat here  what  should  be  known  to  all  intelligent  persons,  that 
Chicherin,  like  many  leading  Communists,  is  a  man  of  very 
good  family,  and  a  real  Russian.  He  is  related  by  marriage  to 
several  old  Polish  families,  among  them  that  of  Count  Czapski, 
who  was  at  one  time  secretary  to  Mr.  Hugh  Gibson,  our  minis- 
ter to  Poland.  His  cousin,  Countess  Plater,  whom  I  met  in 
Vilna,  was  in  the  habit  of  referring  to  him  as  "That  devil, 
my  cousin  Chicherin,"  but  there  was  nothing  diabolical  about 
his  appearance  as  he  sat  at  his  desk  facing  me,  though  he  at 
once  gave  me  the  impression  of  being  an  exceedingly  subtle 
personality.  He  spoke  English  almost  as  well  as  an  Eng- 
lishman. 

After  asking  me  how  I  had  managed  to  fool  the  Foreign 
Office  by  coming  uninvited  into  Russia  and  telling  me  that  in 
spite  of  my  illegal  status  he  had  decided  to  permit  me  to  take 
up  my  work  as  correspondent  in  Moscow,  we  proceeded  to  talk 
about  other  things.  While  inflexible  in  his  devotion  to  Com- 
munism, I  believe  that  Chicherin  has  always  been  in  favor  of 
a  more  liberal  policy  with  regard  to  the  foreign  affairs  than 
many  of  his  colleagues,  but  things  often  get  beyond  his  control, 
and  he  is  not  always  listened  to.  Several  times  while  I  was 
in  Moscow  he  was  severely  censured  by  the  more  intransi- 
geant  Communists,  and  his  report  on  his  foreign  policy  to  the 
Moscow  Soviet  last  year  was  carried  by  an  insignificant  mi- 
nority. At  the  same  time  he  is  the  only  man  in  Russia  today 
who  has  the  experience  and  knowledge  to  handle  the  affairs 
of  the  Foreign  Office.  His  notes  are  often  masterpieces  in 
their  way,  and  he  has  a  genius  for  showing  up  the  weak  side 
of  European  diplomatists.  I  consider  that  when  it  came  to  the 
matter  of  the  retort  courteous  in  the  correspondence  between 
Lord  Curzon  and  Chicherin  that  Chicherin  usually  got  the 
better  of  his  British  opponent.  He  is  less  inclined  than  some 
of  his  fellow  commissars  to  have  a  supreme  disregard  for 
truth  in  his  statements,  though  he  often  sanctions  the  publi- 
cation of  utterly  misleading  reports  in  the  Soviet  bulletins. 

For  example,  last  year  when  it  was  reported  in  the  Soviet 


NEWS  GATHERING  IN  MOSCOW      55 

wireless  that  the  cathedral  of  St.  Vladimir  and  the  water  works 
at  Kiev  had  been  blown  up  by  the  retreating  Poles,  he  never 
contradicted  it,  though  it  was  later  proved  to  be  false.  I  also 
tried  to  get  through  him  confirmation  of  the  published  report 
that  officers  of  the  American  Red  Cross  with  the  Polish  Army 
had  refused  to  attend  the  Red  Army  wounded,  but  failed. 
However,  after  all  this  is  not  Chicherin's  business.  He  does 
actually  censor  and  supervise  matter  sent  out  to  the  foreign 
press,  but  this  is  officially  the  responsibility  of  the  government 
news  agency,  the  Rosta,  of  which  I  shall  have  more  to  say  later 
on. 

My  conversation  with  Chicherin  was  chiefly  confined  to 
the  prospects  of  peace  with  Poland,  for  which  he  confidently 
hoped  at  that  time,  and  for  which  I  believe  he  was  sincerely 
working.  That  his  efforts  were  blocked  was  due  principally 
to  the  attitude  of  the  Poles  themselves,  backed  by  France  and 
England,  and  in  part  to  other  causes  originating  in  Russia.  He 
regarded  the  attitude  of  America  as  frankly  inconsistent,  declar- 
ing that  President  Wilson  had  been  the  first  to  advocate  the 
principle  of  self-determination  and  the  first  to  depart  from  it. 
Russia,  he  said,  was  the  only  country  that  had  consistently  lived 
by  this  doctrine.  He  was  prepared  to  make  important  conces- 
sions to  Poland  in  return  for  peace,  which  he  regarded  as  vital 
at  the  moment,  and  stated  that  he  wished  to  see  the  country  free 
to  devote  itself  to  the  problems  of  economic  reconstruction. 
Beside  Chicherin  the  men  who  have  the  most  flexible  and 
farseeing  minds  among  those  who  are  directing  the  affairs  of 
the  Soviet  Republic  are  Lenin,  Krassin,  and  Karl  Radek. 

Shortly  after  my  talk  with  Chicherin  I  had  an  interview 
with  Krassin,  who  was  then  Commissar  of  Ways  and  Com- 
munications, but  who  expected  soon  to  leave  on  his  London 
mission.  He  made  an  exceedingly  frank  and  interesting  state- 
ment of  the  desperate  state  of  the  Russian  railroads,  expressed 
the  hope  of  a  trade  agreement  with  England  and  America,  and 
outlined  the  policy  of  the  government  towards  concessions. 
There  would  be  no  difficulty,  he  said,  for  Russia,  in  doing  busi- 
ness with  foreign  nations,  once  a  standard  of  value  had  been 
fixed  as  the  basis  of  payment  or  exchange.     Instead  of  trans- 


56  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

acting  business  with  a  number  of  small  capitalists,  foreign 
interests  would  be  dealing  with  one  great  capitalist,  the  Soviet 
Republic.  While  he  did  not  believe  there  were  enough  raw 
materials  on  hand  to  begin  trade  to  any  great  extent  with  out- 
side countries,  he  was  of  the  opinion  that  if  Russia  were  given 
peace,  the  possibility  of  economic  and  industrial  development 
and  allowed  to  purchase  the  locomotives,  for  which  he  claimed 
there  was  sufficient  gold  on  hand,  she  would  soon  be  able  to 
furnish  raw  materials,  though  he  considered  that  even  under 
the  most  favorable  circumstances  it  would  be  many  years  before 
Russia  could  produce  any  manufactured  articles  for  export. 

He  spoke  excellent  German,  which  was  natural,  for  he 
spent  many  years  in  Germany,  and  for  some  time  was  general 
agent  of  the  Siemens  Electric  Company  of  Berlin,  which,  with 
the  General  Electric  Company,  formerly  furnished  practically 
all  electrical  supplies  and  machinery  used  in  Russia.  He  is 
a  man  of  education  and  refinement,  and  there  is  nothing  about 
him  to  suggest  the  Jew,  although  it  has  been  said  that  he 
is  of  Jewish  ancestry. 

A  few  days  later  I  saw  Karl  Radek,  who  is  the  "Peck's 
Bad  Boy"  of  the  Soviet  Government,  always  making  indiscreet 
utterances,  always  getting  into  trouble  and  wriggling  out  again 
with  his  clever  tongue,  but  with  such  wit  and  talent  as  a  publi- 
cist and  propagandist  that  the  Soviet  Government  cannot  do 
without  him.  He  is  a  Polish  Jew,  and  was  active  in  the  Spar- 
ticist  revolts  in  Germany  in  191 9,  and  only  adopted  Russia 
after  his  release  from  prison  in  Berlin  in  the  summer  of  that 
year. 

We  chatted  for  a  while  about  German  affairs,  and  then 
he  began  with  the  most  amazing  frankness  to  discuss  the  Polish 
question,  declaring  that  Poland  wanted  the  war,  but  even  if 
she  did  not,  she  would  be  indirectly  provoked  to  it  by  Russia, 
for  whom  it  was  absolutely  essential  to  have  contact  with 
Germany.  This  could  only  be  done  by  the  conquest  of  Poland, 
not  so  much  by  arms  as  by  propaganda,  and  he  was  firmly 
convinced  that  an  invasion  would  be  followed  by  a  revolution 
in  Poland.  If  the  German  Communist  revolution  did  not  come 
off  he  believed  that  a  profitable  deal  could  be  made  with  the 


NEWS  GATHERING  IN  MOSCOW       57 

German  Junkers  to  join  with  Russia  against  the  Entente.  For 
the  future  he  envisaged  a  possible  alliance  of  Germany  and 
Russia  into  which  perhaps  the  United  States  would  be  drawn  as 
a  protection  against  the  "yellow  menace"  of  Japan,  He  also  had 
a  vision  of  the  development  of  South  America  into  a  great 
power,  which,  backed  by  England,  would  rob  America  of  her 
foreign  trade  and  the  domination  of  the  Western  Hemisphere. 

It  was  a  most  entertaining  interview.  I  wrote  it,  and,  as 
required,  I  gave  one  copy  to  the  press  censorship  of  the  Foreign 
Office  for  revision,  and  sent  the  other  to  Radek  for  correction. 
Needless  to  say  I  never  received  either  back  again.  When  I 
called  Radek  up  by  telephone  he  told  me  that  he  had  O.  K.'d 
my  copy  and  returned  it  to  the  Foreign  Office,  but  it  got 
mysteriously  lost,  and  the  interview  was  never  put  on  the 
wireless. 

Meanwhile  I  had  taken  up  my  routine  as  Moscow  cor- 
respondent of  the  Associated  Press,  my  work  centering  in 
the  Western  Section  of  the  Foreign  Office  under  Rosenberg, 
who  was  in  charge  of  all  press  correspondents.  Rosenberg 
was  generally  unpopular  with  correspondents.  In  the  first 
place,  he  was  physically  unprepossessing,  typically  Jewish  in 
appearance,  with  vile  manners,  and  a  frank  contempt  for 
bourgeois  ideals,  which  he  was  at  no  pains  to  conceal.  He  had 
no  conception  of  newspaper  ethics,  and  regarded  newspaper 
work  as  simply  an  arm  of  propaganda.  Objective  statements 
or  constructive  criticism  did  not  appeal  to  him. 

Once  I  summarized  the  main  facts  in  a  very  interesting 
article  on  the  situation  of  Russian  railroads,  which  had  ap- 
peared in  Economic  Life,  emphasizing  certain  data  which 
seemed  to  me  important,  and  drawing  my  own  conclusions,  in 
my  radio  telegram.  At  the  same  time  another  story  was 
written  by  an  American  newspaper  man  then  in  Moscow,  based 
on  the  same  facts,  but  drawing  conclusions  more  favorable  to 
the  Soviet  Government.  I  turned  in  my  dispatch,  the  other 
correspondent  did  the  same.  Rosenberg  read  them  both,  then 
he  turned  to  me  and  said,  "Mrs.  Harrison,  your  article  is  per- 
fectly correct  in  every  particular,  but  I  prefer  Mr.  Blank's  ar- 
ticle.    It  is  more  favorable  to  us.     If  they  both  came  out 


58  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

in  the  American  press  at  the  same  time  it  might  produce  a 
bad  impression.  I  will  send  his  first  and  hold  yours  for 
twenty-four  hours."  I 

He  was  also  ignorant  of  current  newspaper  phraseology 
in  America  and  was  suspicious  of  every  unusual  expression. 
In  one  of  my  stories  dealing  with  the  trades  unions  I  used  the 
expression  "labor  turnover."  He  was  quite  convinced  that  I 
meant  that  there  was  a  tendency  towards  counter-revolution 
in  the  unions,  and  I  had  a  very  difficult  time  to  explain  away 
the  idea.  At  the  same  time,  after  a  while  I  grew  to  admire 
his  savage  loyalty,  his  fanatical  devotion  to  Communism,  for 
he  was  absolutely  sincere  and  single-hearted  in  his  work  for 
the  cause,  and  he  never  spared  himself.  Like  Chicherin,  he 
lived  simply  at  the  Hotel  Metropole,  never  giving  a  thought 
to  his  own  health  or  comfort,  and  he  was  a  constant  sufferer 
from  a  serious  form  of  anaemia  that  threatened  to  develop 
into  tuberculosis. 

Besides  Rosenberg,  I  soon  made  the  acquaintance  of  many 
other  employees  of  the  Foreign  Office.  They  were  an  inter- 
esting lot,  many  of  them  trained  in  the  Imperial  diplomatic 
service,  others  people  who  had  drifted  into  Russia  for  various 
reasons,  some  who  had  been  involuntarily  detained  and  who 
preferred  service  with  the  Soviet  Government  to  sitting  in 
prison.  On  the  staff  of  the  Western  Section  was  "Joe  Fein- 
berg,"  a  well-known  Jewish  Socialist  agitator  from  London, 
who  spoke  English  better  than  he  did  Russian,  He  acted  as 
interpreter  for  the  British  Labor  delegation,  and  was  a  red-hot 
Communist  to  such  an  extent  that  he  usually  expressed  his 
feelings  by  wearing  a  red  shirt.  Therefore  I  christened  him 
Garibaldi  II.  Then  there  was  Rozinsky,  also  an  East  Side 
London  Jew,  who  was  interpreter  for  many  of  the  English 
and  American  correspondents.  At  times  his  knowledge  of 
English  stood  him  in  good  stead  for  other  purposes  than  in- 
terpreting, as  when,  for  example,  in  the  uniform  of  a  Red 
Armist  he  accompanied  Mr.  Pate  and  Mr.  Walker  of  the 
American  Relief  Administration  on  their  journey  from  Minsk 
to  Moscow.  They  had  received  permission  from  the  Soviet 
authorities  during  the  Polish  armistice  negotiations  to  go  to 


NEWS  GATHERING  IN  MOSCOW       59 

Moscow  for  a  preliminary  survey  with  a  view  to  undertaking 
relief  work  in  Russia,  and  stayed  for  ten  days  at  my  guest 
house.  When  they  pointed  out  their  escort,  telling  me  that  he 
was  a  nice  little  fellow  but  it  was  a  pity  he  spoke  no  English, 
I  was  greatly  amused. 

Second  in  command  to  Chicherin  was  Kharakhan,  who  was 
sent,  after  the  signing  of  the  peace  treaty,  as  the  Soviet  emis- 
sary to  Poland.  He  is  an  Armenian,  and  is  known  in  Moscow 
as  "Kharakhan  the  Beautiful"  on  account  of  his  undeniable 
good  looks.  He  is  one  of  the  new  aristocracy  among  the 
commissars  and  lives  in  the  palace  of  the  former  Sugar  King 
Horitonev,  where  Claire  Sheridan,  Washington  Vanderlip, 
Arthur  Ransome,  the  English  writer,  George  Lansbury,  of  the 
Daily  Herald,  and  other  foreigners  who  were 'especially  hon- 
ored guests  of  the  Soviet  Government  lived  during  their  stay  in 
Moscow.  He  came  to  the  Foreign  Office  every  day  in  the 
beautiful  Rolls  Royce  reserved  for  his  exclusive  use.  Chi- 
cherin, on  the  other  hand,  used  to  get  a  car  when  he  needed 
one,  from  the  garage  of  the  Central  Executive  Committee. 
Once,  I  remember,  he  showed  up  late  at  a  very  important 
meeting  because  he  was  unable  to  get  a  car. 

The  Foreign  Office  is  situated  in  a  wing  of  the  former 
Hotel  Metropole,  on  the  square  facing  the  Grand  Opera 
house.  The  hotel  proper,  now  known  as  the  Second  House  of 
the  Soviets,  is  used  by  Soviet  employees  and  commissars.  The 
offices,  mostly  converted  bedrooms,  are  crowded  and  not 
overly  convenient,  and  a  number  of  the  women  employees  sleep 
on  the  mezzanine  floor,  where  are  also  the  offices  of  the  Western 
Section.  There,  during  the  day,  credentials  and  passports  of 
arriving  and  departing  foreigners  were  examined  by  Rosen- 
berg and  his  assistant.  They  actually  obtained  leave  to  depart 
or  a  "permis  de  sejour,"  from  another  department  presided 
over  by  Yakobovitch,  whose  pretty  secretary.  Mile.  Lov,  is 
half  English,  From  six  until  nine  or  ten  in  the  evening  the 
office  was  closed,  and  at  about  eleven  o'clock  the  press  cor- 
respondents began  to  gather  and  wait,  gossiping  meanwhile, 
for  the  official  Soviet  bulletin  in  French,  which  appeared  at 
midnight.    If  we  had  had  any  interviews  or  collected  any  in- 


60  MAROOXED  IX  MOSCOW 

formation  during  the  day  -^-e  brought  our  finished  stories  at 
that  time  and  submitted  them  to  Rosenberg  for  his  approval, 
otherw-ise  we  waited  for  the  news  biilletin,  which  was  a  transla- 
tion of  the  most  important  items  and  leading  articles  in  the 
daily  papers,  together  with  the  text  of  Chicherin's  notes  and 
military-  bulletins  from  the  Polish  and  Wrangel  fronts. 

We  sat  in  a  small  room,  the  floor  of  which  was  covered 
with  a  superb  oriental  rug  much  too  large,  furnished  with  a 
nondescript  collection  of  chairs  and  sofas  taken  from  rooms 
of  the  hotel,  and  a  big  deal  table.  Later  we  were  given  the 
room  next  door,  formerly  the  sitting  room  of  a  siite  de  luxe. 
It  possessed  a  marble  top  table,  an  ornate  Florentine  mirror, 
gilded  pseudo  Louis  Fifteenth  fiimiture  covered  with  green 
brocade,  and  a  boudoir  lamp  with  a  yellow  silk  shade.  Into 
these  incongruous  surroimdings  we  brought  several  broken 
down  typewriters  from  the  next  room  and  t}-peJ  our  radio 
messages.  At  twelve  o'clock  a  samovar,  glasses  and  Soviet 
tea  were  brought  in.  I  sometimes  contributed  real  tea,  other 
correspondents  brought  sugar,  and  we  often  had  ver>'  jolly 
midnight  parties.  Among  the  correspondents  in  these  early 
days  were  Griffin  Barry,  an  -\merican  who  was  writing  for 
the  London  Daily  Herald,  a  man  from  the  Londan  Chronicle 
who  was  doing  Russia  because  he  had  been  told  to  do  so,  and 
was  bored  to  death  with  the  whole  business ;  John  Claj-ton  of 
the  Chicago  Tribune;  Lambert  of  the  London  Express,  and 
George  Lansbury,  owner  of  the  Herald.  Mr.  Lansbury  was 
a  charming,  but  most  credulous  old  gentleman.  His  Com- 
munism, which  was  based  on  a  literal  interpretation  of  the 
teachings  of  Christianity-,  rather  than  on  the  principles  of  Karl 
Marx,  was  of  the  idealistic  tv-pe.  He  believed  implicitly  every- 
thing that  was  told  him,  and  surrounded  it  with  a  Uttle  halo 
of  his  own  making.  Poor  Lansbur}-,  who  was  a  very  good 
friend  of  the  So^^et  Government,  was  made  fim  of  behind 
his  back  by  the  more  materialistic  Conmiunists ;  a  quotation 
from  a  speech  he  made  after  his  return  to  England  in  which  he 
was  reported  to  have  said,  "All  is  well  with  Russia,  the  churches 
are  still  open,'"  caused  great  merriment  at  the  Foreign  Office. 
Our  despatches  to  our  papers,  after  being  read  by  Rosen- 


NEWS  GATHERING  IX  MOSCOW      61 

berg,  who  often  made  changes  or  erasures,  were  sent  to 
Chicherin  for  approval,  with  the  result  that  there  were  some- 
times further  cuts.  Then  they  had  to  pass  the  "Militar}- 
Censorship,"  which  meant  in  plain  English  that  they  were 
subjected  to  the  scrutiny  of  an  agent  of  the  Extraordinary' 
Commission,  after  which  such  portions  as  were  considered  tit 
to  print  were  sent  out  by  the  government  radio,  to  take  their 
chances,  if  favorable  to  the  Soviet  Government,  of  being  picked 
up  and  intercepted  by  various  governments  en  route.  The 
Soviet  Government  is  not  entirely  to  blame  for  the  fact  that  so 
little  of  the  truth  has  gotten  out  about  Russia.  In  many  in- 
stances perfectly  fair  despatches.  giWng  absolutely  truthful 
accounts  of  actual  conditions  are  intercepted,  marked  secret  and 
filed  in  the  records  of  Downing  Street,  the  \\'ilhelm  Strasse  or 
the  Quai  d'Orsay.  From  the  Russian  end  it  was  impossible 
for  us  to  write  amthing  except  straight  news  or  interviews 
unless  we  went  in  for  tendential  stuff  favorable  to  Communism. 
The  Foreign  Office  told  us  quite  frankly,  and  tmforrunately 
there  was  some  truth  in  the  statement,  that  fair  messages  were 
often  garbled  and  changed  so  as  to  be  \-iolent  anti-Bolshevik 
propaganda. 

After  some  time  I  acquired  a  better  knowledge  of  Rus- 
sian, and  I  foimd  that  through  the  Rosta,  the  Russian  govern- 
ment news  agency.  I  could  get  bulletins  of  the  news  items  to 
appear  in  the  next  morning  papers,  thereby  beating  the  other 
foreign  correspondents  b}-  twenty-four  hours  on  spot  news ; 
and,  having  received  permission  from  Chicherin.  I  went 
to  the  Central  Office  of  the  Rosta  in  the  Lubianka,  cop}-ing 
and  translating  anNthing  that  might  be  of  interest  to  the  out- 
side world.  There,  too,  I  got  an  insight  not  to  be  had  in  any 
other  way  of  what  was  going  on  in  various  parts  of  Russia. 
The  Rosta  has  agencies  in  ever}-  town  and  cit}-  and  receives 
full  reports  of  local  happenings  all  over  the  countn.-.  There 
were  often  accounts  of  strikes,  peasant  uprisings,  meetings  and 
events  imimportant  in  themselves,  but  straws  pointing  which 
way  the  wind  in  the  pro^-inces  was  blo-vs-ing.  which  were  either 
suppressed  for  various  reasons,  or  not  printed  for  lack  of 
room  in  the  next  day's  papers,  and  I  was  able  to  read  them  alL 


62  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

I  fancy  that  this  was  one  of  the  activities  which  later  made  me 
unpopular  with  the  Extraordinary  Commission. 

The  Rosta,  which  derives  its  name  from  its  official  title, 
The  Russian  Socialist  Telegraph  Agency,  is  undoubtedly  the 
most  remarkable  organization  of  its  kind  in  the  world.  It 
is  not  only  devoted  to  the  collecting  and  collating  of  news,  but 
to  educational  and  cultural  work,  and  it  is  the  chief  arm  of  the 
Communist  propaganda  system.  I  obtained  an  excellent  idea 
of  the  tremendous  scope  of  the  work  of  the  Rosta  from  my 
visit  to  an  exhibition  in  the  Kremlin,  which  was  intended  only 
for  the  members  of  the  Ninth  Communist  Convention  then  in 
session.  I  went  with  Francis  McCullagh,  a  well-known  Eng- 
lish journalist,  who  had  been  with  General  Knox's  Mission 
in  Siberia,  as  an  Intelligence  Officer,  and  had  been  caught  at 
Omsk  in  the  Kolchak  retreat,  where  he  resumed  his  civilian 
status  and  came  to  Moscow  as  correspondent  of  the  Man- 
chester Guardian.  I  shall  later  tell  how  Mr.  McCullagh  and 
I  both  got  into  prison  at  the  same  time,  owing  to  our  prying 
proclivities. 

We  had  met  Kerzhentsev,  head  of  the  Rosta,  at  the  office 
in  the  Lubianka,  and  he  had  told  us  of  the  exhibition.  By 
using  his  name  we  felt  sure  that  we  would  have  no  difficulty 
in  getting  into  the  exhibition  if  we  could  once  get  to  the 
Kremlin.  Admission  to  the  Kremlin  was  exceedingly  difficult 
to  obtain,  and  no  one,  from  the  most  important  commissar 
to  the  humblest  peasant  bringing  in  food  supplies,  can  get 
through  one  of  its  well  guarded  gates  without  proper  creden- 
tials. I  had  been  there  once,  however,  to  see  Radek;  so,  when 
I  applied  at  the  gate,  Mr.  McCullagh  and  I  showed  our 
credentials  as  foreign  journalists,  stating  at  the  same  time 
that  we  had  an  appointment  with  Radek.  The  girl  who 
issued  permits  at  the  gate  said  that  she  would  call  him  up.  If 
she  had  succeeded  in  getting  him  I  had  determined  to  tell  him 
that  I  wished  to  discuss  some  points  in  our  previous  inter- 
view before  sending  it  out.  But  I  was  banking  on  the  fact  that 
it  was  very  difficult  to  get  telephone  connections  and  that  she 
would  probably  become  discouraged  and  let  us  in  anyway. 
This  was  exactly  what  happened.     We  soon  found  our- 


NEWS  GATHERING  IN  MOSCOW      63 

selves  inside  the  sacred  enclosure  and  located  the  exhibition 
in  one  of  the  rooms  of  the  Commissariat  of  Justice. 

The  walls  were  covered  with  charts  and  diagrams  showing 
the  branches  of  the  Rosta  all  over  the  country.  Articles  were 
tabulated  and  classified,  showing  the  results  produced.  The 
name  of  every  correspondent  was  given  with  the  number  of 
his  published  articles,  and  his  efficiency  was  estimated  according 
to  a  scientific  percentage  system.  The  Rosta  from  its  central 
office  in  the  Lubianka,  issues  all  the  press  matter  used  in 
Russia;  its  activities  embrace  not  only  the  principal  news- 
papers, such  as  the  Praz^da,  Isz'estia_,  Economic  Life,  Com- 
munistic Work,  Byednotd,  but  the  innumerable  provincial 
papers,  and  the  wall  newspapers,  of  which  there  are  over  four 
hundred.  The  last  named  are  pasted  in  railroad  stations,  gov- 
ernment offices  and  public  places  and  are  usually  devoted  to 
special  propaganda.  There  were  also  propaganda  issues  of 
the  principal  papers  written  to  produce  a  certain  effect  at  a 
given  time.  Provincial  correspondents  of  the  Rosta  send  in 
their  news  items  by  radio.  These  are  edited  and  colored  with 
the  necessary  propaganda  tint  and  returned  for  local  publica- 
tion. Foreign  news  is  dealt  with  in  the  same  manner,  and 
the  morale  of  the  people  is  largely  kept  up  by  systematic  re- 
ports of  revolutions  and  labor  crises  in  other  countries,  de- 
signed to  produce  the  impression  of  the  unity  of  the  world 
proletariat. 

One  of  the  activities  of  the  Rosta  is  the  oral  newspaper. 
This  is  used  in  country  districts  where  the  peasants  are  still 
for  the  most  part  illiterate.  On  certain  days  at  an  appointed 
time  an  agent  of  the  Rosta  reads  aloud  to  the  assembled 
peasants  the  important  news  of  the  day,  interpreting  it  after 
his  own  fashion.  These  agents  are  invariably  Communists 
and  trained  propaganda  workers.  Among  the  journalists  who 
write  for  the  Rosta  are  many  old  Russian  newspaper  men. 
In  addition  it  employs  the  services  of  a  great  many  former 
lawyers,  and  some  of  the  best  technical  and  professional  men 
in  the  country.  As  a  rule  these  men  are  poorly  paid,  and  they 
are  obliged  to  have  several  jobs  in  order  to  earn  a  living. 
I  knew  a  former  newspaper  man  in  Moscow,  who  worked  as 


64  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

one  of  the  night  editors  at  the  Central  Bureau  of  the  Rosta. 
In  addition  he  gave  lectures  on  journalism  in  the  courses  of 
the  Proletcult,  and  wrote  propaganda  pamphlets  for  the  Centro 
Pechati,  the  central  government  printing  bureau,  under  the 
Department  of  Education.  By  this  means  he  managed  to  make 
enough,  working  fourteen  or  fifteen  hours  a  day,  to  keep 
body  and  soul  together. 

The  Soviet  newspapers  are  usually  very  serious  affairs. 
There  are  no  sensational  stories,  no  accounts  of  murders  or 
conjugal  infidelities.  They  are  conducted  first  with  a  view 
to  propaganda,  second  with  a  view  to  education,  culture  and 
technical  information.  The  headlines  are  often  extraordi- 
narily effective.  For  example  the  section  devoted  to  economic 
reconstruction  is  headed  "The  Working  Front."  Among  the 
most  popular  of  the  means  employed  by  the  Rosta  for  the 
spread  of  Communist  propaganda  are  cartoons  illustrating 
current  events.  They  are  posted  weekly  in  all  large  towns 
and  cities  and  at  several  points  in  Moscow.  They  are  done 
with  water  colors,  in  crude  tints  on  enormous  sheets  of  wrap- 
ping paper,  and  are  somewhat  Cubistic  in  character.  Under- 
neath each  cartoon  are  pungent  comments  and  witticisms  which 
everybody  can  understand. 

The  Bolsheviks  will  undoubtedly  have  to  get  out  a  diction- 
ary in  the  near  future.  They  have  made  excellent  and  impor- 
tant reforms  in  spelling  such  as  inaugurating  the  use  of  only 
two  forms  of  the  letter  "i,"  where  formerly  four  were  used; 
one  letter  "e,"  instead  of  three,  and  they  have  abolished  the 
"tvyordisnak,''  the  hard  sign  formerly  used  after  words 
terminating  in  hard  consonants.  In  many  instances  they  have 
also  simplified  spelling.  For  this  all  Russians  and  all  for- 
eigners who  study  the  language  certainly  owe  them  a  debt  of 
gratitude.  On  the  other  hand  they  have  instituted  a  number 
of  abbreviations  for  the  names  of  commissariats  and  govern- 
mental departments  which  make  it  almost  impossible  for  the 
uninitiated  to  read  the  newspapers.  I  will  give  a  few  examples. 
The  Commissariat  of  Public  Health,  ''Narodni  Commissariat 
Zdravoochranenya,"  is  called  "Narkomsdrav" ;  the  Food  Com- 
missariat, "Narodni  Commissariat  Prodovolstvya,"  is  "Nar- 


NEWS  GATHERING  IN  MOSCOW       65 

komprod."  Its  provincial  branches  are  the  "Gubprodkoms," 
"Gubiernskii  Prodovolstvennii  Kommiteti.'  The  Supreme 
Economic  Council,  ''Vuische  Soviet  Narodnovo  Hozaistva,"  is 
the  "Sovnarhos." 

News  is  distributed  by  radio  or  wireless  telephone.  The 
transmitting  station  for  sending  news  abroad  and  to  the  prov- 
inces is  the  great  wireless  station  at  Hodinka  in  the  suburbs 
of  Moscow  which  I  visited  with  Nikolaiev,  the  superintendent, 
who  was  formerly  employed  at  the  Eiffel  Tower  in  Paris. 
There  I  saw  a  splendid  apparatus  in  perfect  working  order, 
in  communication  with  four  hundred  and  fifty  radio  stations 
in  Russia,  with  Copenhagen,  Nauen,  Paris,  Peterhead,  Bo- 
logna and  many  other  stations  throughout  the  world.  New 
radio  stations  were  being  constructed  all  over  Russia  and  the 
system  when  completed  will  comprise  eight  hundred  and 
fifty  stations. 

Incoming  messages  were  received  at  Dyetskoe  Selo,  the 
new  name  for  Tzarskoe  Selo,  a  suburb  of  Petrograd,  formerly 
the  summer  home  of  the  Imperial  family,  and  from  there 
passed  first  through  the  military  censorship,  then  to  the  office 
of  the  Rosta  and  finally  all  over  Russia.  The  antennae  of  the 
wireless  station  at  Dyetskoe  Selo  are  synchronized  so  as  to 
pick  up  messages  from  the  wireless  stations  of  any  country, 
and  it  employs  a  corps  of  experts  who  are  able  to  decipher 
practically  every  code  in  use  at  the  present  time. 

Outgoing  messages  were  treated  in  the  same  manner. 
Many  local  messages  were  handled  by  wireless  telephone, 
which  the  Bolsheviks  have  developed  extensively  during  the  last 
few  years.  While  at  Hodinka  I  was  allowed  to  talk  to  the 
operator  in  Tashkend,  eight  hundred  versts  from  Moscow. 

When  I  had  finished  my  work  for  the  night  at  the  Foreign 
Office  I  returned  to  the  Horitonevski  on  foot,  frequently  alone, 
rarely  earlier  than  two  or  three  in  the  morning.  I  continued 
to  do  this  with  few  interruptions  for  eight  months,  and  during 
that  entire  time  I  was  never  once  spoken  to  or  molested  in  any 
way  on  the  street,  nor  did  I  ever  see  anyone  else  stopped  or 
interfered  with.  Order  was  absolutely  preserved  by  the  militia- 
men who  patrolled  the   streets,   instead  of  policemen,   with 


66  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

rifles  instead  of  revolvers.  At  first  I  often  heard  shots  and 
imagined  that  they  were  fired  at  nocturnal  marauders,  but  I 
later  discovered  that  it  was  the  militiamen's  way  of  signalling 
to  one  another,  replacing  the  policemen's  whistles  in  use  in 
other  countries.  Robberies  on  a  large  scale  were  very  rare, 
though  there  was  a  great  deal  of  petty  thievery,  particularly 
in  the  markets. 

After  getting  home  in  the  wee  small  hours  we  were  often 
hungry,  and  adjourned  to  my  room,  where  I  made  scrambled 
eggs  on  a  little  coal  oil  stove,  tea,  and  occasionally  when  some- 
one had  recently  arrived  from  abroad,  cocoa.  Our  Russian 
friends  used  to  join  us  at  these  parties,  and  we  frequently 
talked  till  it  was  nearly  light,  discussing  everything  under  the 
sun.  The  Russians  are  great  all-night  sitters,  and  everyone 
falls  naturally  into  the  same  habit  in  Russia. 


CHAPTER  VII 
THE  GODS  AND  THEIR  MACHINE 

During  my  first  weeks  in  Moscow  I  did  very  largely  the 
things  that  are  done  by  every  other  foreigner,  visiting  Soviet 
institutions,  particularly  schools,  hospitals,  Soviet  stores  and 
public  dining  rooms,  and  getting  a  very  good  idea  of  the  edu- 
cational, public  health  and  rationing  systems.  Later  I  made 
some  unofficial  visits  to  these  places  on  my  own  account  and 
supplemented  what  I  had  learned  from  official  sources  by  my 
own  observations,  and  conversations  with  private  individuals. 

It  happened  that  during  the  first  part  of  my  stay  there  was  a 
succession  of  public  meetings  and  congresses,  which  gave  me  an 
insight  into  the  workings  of  the  Communist  party  machine. 
Shortly  after  my  arrival  the  elections  for  the  Moscow  Soviet 
took  place,  resulting  in  a  Communist  membership  of  over 
twelve  hundred  out  of  the  fifteen  hundred  members.  One 
hundred  and  forty-eight  Mensheviks  were  elected,  and  the 
remainder  were  non-partisans.  There  were  no  independent 
party  lists  except  that  of  the  Mensheviks.  Voting,  which  was 
conducted  under  the  Soviet  industrial  franchise  system,  was 
by  acclamation,  and  such  was  the  domination  of  the  Com- 
munist element  that  few  people  dared  to  hold  up  their  hands 
against  the  Communist  candidates.  Those  who  were  particu- 
larly strong  minded  simply  refrained  from  voting,  that  was 
all.  In  order  to  secure  an  overwhelming  majority  for  the 
government,  offices  where  there  were  a  number  of  non-parti- 
sans or  opposition  Socialist  voters  were  grouped  with  others 
where  Communists  predominated.  For  example,  employees 
of  the  Moscow  Food  Administration  voted  with  the  employees 
of  the  Moscow  branch  of  the  Checka,  the  Extraordinary  Com- 
mission. 

At  the  open  meeting  of  the  Moscow  Soviet,  which  was  held 

67 


68  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

in  the  Opera  House,  I  had  my  first  glimpse  of  Lenin,  who  made 
the  opening  address.  It  was  devoted  to  the  government's  pro- 
gram for  reconstruction,  which  was  then  occupying  attention  to 
the  exclusion  of  nearly  everything  else.  He  told  of  the  or- 
ganization of  the  Working  Army,  of  the  project  of  the  govern- 
ment to  institute  one-man  control  by  experts  in  factories  in~ 
stead  of  the  Work  Councils,  and  gave  a  clear,  impartial  picture 
of  the  exigencies  of  the  economic  situation.  When  I  saw  him 
come  out  on  the  stage  my  first  feeling  was  one  of  disappoint- 
ment. He  is  a  short,  thick  set,  unimposing  looking  little  man, 
with  colorless  hair  and  complexion,  a  small,  pointed  beard, 
piercing  gray-blue  eyes,  and  a  quiet,  unemotional,  almost  monot- 
onous manner  of  delivery.  He  wore  a  suit  of  rough  English 
tweeds,  and  looked  like  nothing  so  much  as  a  fairly  prosperous, 
middle  class  business  man.  After  the  first  few  words,  how- 
ever, I,  like  everyone  else,  began  to  listen  attentively.  It  was 
not  magnetic  eloquence  that  held  me,  it  was  the  impression  of 
tremendous  sincerity,  utter  self-confidence  and  quiet  power 
that  Lenin  creates.  He  is  so  absolutely  sure  of  himself  and  of 
his  idea,  so  utterly  logical  in  hit  Auctions.  In  his  writings  and 
brochures  Lenin  is  often  dry  and  tedious,  and  uses  unusual 
words  and  involved  expressions,  but  when  he  speaks  to  the  peo- 
ple he  has  a  talent  for  picking  out  the  simplest  possible  words 
to  express  his  meaning,  without,  however,  degenerating  into 
colloquialisms.  Of  all  public  speakers  in  Russia  he  is  the 
easiest  for  a  foreigner  to  follow  and  understand. 

The  Soviet  meeting  was  planned  with  the  instinct  for  dra- 
matic effect  which  is  strong  in  every  Russian.  Red  flags  were 
everywhere ;  the  motto  of  the  Red  Republic,  ''Proletariat  of  the 
World,  Unite,"  written  in  half  a  dozen  languages,  appeared 
on  a  multitude  of  banners  which  decorated  the  stage,  at  the 
back  of  which  was  an  enormous  allegorical  back  drop  repre- 
senting the  triumph  of  the  world  proletariat.  Portraits  of  the 
triumvirate,  Lenin,  Trotzki  and  Karl  Marx,  surrounded  by 
garlands,  appeared  everywhere — on  the  stage,  in  the  lobby,  over 
the  boxes.  I  do  not  object  to  Lenin  and  Trotzki,  but  from  the 
first  I  had  a  spite  against  Karl  Marx.  He  was  omnipresent,  and 
he  always  had  the  same  ruminative,  echt  deutsch  stolid  expres- 


THE  GODS  AND  THEIR  MACHINE      69 

sion.  Nothing  will  ever  make  me  believe  that  that  man  v^^as 
as  clever  as  his  apostles  believed  him  to  be.  I  shall  always  have 
a  suspicion  that  he  was  just  a  pedantic  old  German  professor. 
If  he  had  lived  a  bit  longer  I  am  sure  he  would  have  proved  a 
great  drawback  to  the  execution  of  his  own  theories.  Above 
all  I  despised  his  benevolent  looking  beard.  No  man  who  ad- 
vocates brute  force  exercised  by  a  minority  on  the  majority  has 
the  right  to  a  benevolent  expression  and  a  grand  fatherly  beard. 

The  grand  opera  orchestra,  which  is  one  of  the  finest  in  the 
world,  played  the  "International"  at  the  beginning  and  end  of 
each  speech,  and  as  it  is  always  sung  standing  we  were  con- 
tinually bobbing  up  and  down.  I  soon  learned  the  chorus,  and 
used  to  join  in  vigorously.  The  members  of  the  Soviet  were 
all  seated  on  the  ground  floor,  the  Imperial  box  was  reserved 
for  People's  Commissars  and  members  of  the  Central  Execu- 
tive Committee;  others  for  representatives  of  the  Central 
Council  of  Trades  Unions,  and  the  unions  themselves,  repre- 
sentatives of  the  Red  Army,  foreign  delegations  and  press 
correspondents,  while  the  proletariat  occupied  the  less  desirable 
boxes  and  the  galleries.  Admission  was  by  card  only,  armed 
guards  were  stationed  in  all  the  corridors,  and  the  space  in 
front  of  the  Opera  House  was  roped  off  and  guarded  by  Red 
Army  cavalry  and  infantrymen.  These  precautions  are  al- 
ways observed  whenever  Lenin  and  Trotzki  appear,  and  have 
been  in  force  ever  since  the  attempt  on  Lenin's  life  in  the 
autumn  of  1918. 

Trotzki  also  spoke  at  the  same  meeting.  As  it  was  the 
first  time  I  had  seen  him  I  was  very  curious  as  to  the  impres- 
sion I  would  receive  of  his  personality.  When  he  appeared 
he  was  greeted,  as  usual,  with  a  tremendous  ovation.  Until 
it  was  time  for  him  to  speak  he  sat  at  the  long  red  table 
on  the  stage  with  members  of  the  prsesidium,  or  presiding  body, 
of  which  Kamenev  was  the  chairman.  He  sat  with  his  head 
bent,  scribbling  industriously  on  a  pad  in  front  of  him,  and 
I  could  only  see  his  high  forehead  with  its  mass  of  dark,  curly 
chestnut  hair  and  the  sharp  line  of  demarcation  between  the 
upper  part  of  his  forehead,  which  had  been  protected  by  a  cap, 
and  the  lower  part  of  his  face,  which  was  tanned  by  life  in 


70  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

the  open  with  the  Red  Army.  When  it  was  time  for  him 
to  speak  he  pushed  back  his  chair  with  a  quick,  restless  move- 
ment and  advanced  to  the  front  of  the  platform.  I  saw  a 
broad-shouldered  man  of  middle  height,  slightly  inclined  to 
stoutness  at  the  waistline,  but  erect  and  military  in  his  bearing. 
He  had  gray-green  eyes,  a  prominent  chin,  brought  still  more 
into  relief  by  a  dark  chestnut  goatee,  and  close-clipped  dark 
mustache. 

The  line  of  his  mouth  was  hard,  cynical,  almost  forbid- 
ding, until  he  began  to  speak,  and  then  I  suddenly  realized 
that  there  was  something  magnetic  and  compelling  about  the 
man's  personality.  Squaring  his  shoulders,  he  stood  with  his 
hands  behind  his  back  and  spoke  in  short,  terse,  pithy  sen- 
tences, interspersed  with  real  flashes  of  humor.  He  under- 
stood the  art  of  drawing  and  riveting  the  attention  of  the 
public.  There  was  something  almost  exultant  in  his  expres- 
sion as  his  eyes  swept  the  enormous  crowd  in  front  of  him, 
and  it  seemed  to  me  that  subconsciously  it  was  mingled  with 
a  certain  amount  of  racial  pride.  I  could  almost  imagine  him 
as  saying,  "For  the  first  time  since  the  days  of  the  Maccabees, 
I,  a  Jew,  am  the  head  of  a  great  army."  Later,  when  I  heard 
him  speak  before  the  graduating  class  of  the  general  staff 
school,  and  at  the  military  parade  in  honor  of  the  Third  In- 
ternational, the  same  idea  obtruded  itself  on  my  imagination. 

While  I  never  had  a  formal  interview  with  Trotzki  I  had 
an  informal  talk  with  him,  which  was  much  more  diverting. 
Interviews  with  Lenin  and  Trotzki  are  usually  very  disap- 
pointing affairs.  Correspondents  are,  as  a  rule,  required  to 
make  application  in  writing,  giving  a  number  of  questions 
to  which  they  wish  to  receive  the  answers.  These  are  pre- 
pared by  the  secretary  and  handed  out  at  the  interview,  the 
great  man  adding  a  few  words  along  the  same  lines,  but  that 
is  all.  My  conversation  with  Trotzki,  however,  was  quite  a 
different  matter. 

After  my  visit  with  Mr.  McCullagh  to  the  exhibition  of 
the  Rosta  in  the  Kremlin,  we  strolled  aroimd  looking  at  the 
historic  buildings  and  convents,  wandering  unmolested  in  and 
out  of  courtyards  and  passageways.     Everything  was  much 


THE  GODS  AND  THEIR  MACHINE      71 

the  same  as  in  the  old  days.  The  imperial  palace,  to  which 
admission  may  be  had  on  Sundays,  and  the  churches,  which 
are  also  shown  on  Thursdays  to  those  armed  with  permits 
from  the  Foreign  Office  or  the  Commissariat  of  Education, 
have  been  kept  intact.  The  meetings  of  the  Third  Interna- 
tional are  held  in  the  audience  chamber  of  the  Imperial  palace. 
As  we  were  crossing  the  great  square  between  the  building 
which  is  now  the  Commissariat  of  Justice,  and  the  Cavalry 
Corps,  the  former  quarters  of  the  officers  of  the  Imperial 
Guard,  now  the  residence  of  several  of  the  People's  Commis- 
sars, I  saw  a  familiar  figure  just  ahead  of  me,  walking  quickly 
in  the  direction  of  the  latter  building. 

"That's  Trotzki,"  I  said  to  Mr.  McCullagh.  "I  am  going 
to  speak  to  him,"  and  I  started  off  at  a  run.  When  I  was 
within  speaking  distance  I  called  rather  breathlessly: 

"Citizen  Commissar,  may  I  speak  to  you  for  a  moment?" 
Citizen,  by  the  way,  is  the  correct  form  of  address  at  present 
in  Russia.  The  word  tovarisch — comrade — is  only  used  be- 
tween party  members  or  in  the  army. 

He  turned  around,  evidently  very  much  astonished  at  being 
halted  in  such  a  manner  by  an  unknown,  and  evidently  for- 
eign, female;  but  he  did  not  look  at  all  forbidding.  I  told 
him  that  I  would  like  to  have  him  tell  me  something  of  his 
plans  for  the  Working  Army ;  that  I  could  speak  Russian  very 
badly  and  would  prefer  to  talk  in  French,  English  or  German. 
He  chose  the  first,  which  he  speaks  exceedingly  well,  to  tell  me 
that  it  was  impossible  for  him  at  that  time  to  give  out  any- 
thing for  publication,  but  he  added  that  he  believed  that  the 
project  would  receive  the  unanimous  support  of  the  army,  and 
that  the  men  were  impressed  with  the  fact  that  winning  the 
economic  war  was  of  equal  importance  with  victory  over 
Kolchak,  Yudenitch  or  Denikin.  He  did  not  anticipate  any 
trouble  in  holding  the  men  after  the  cessation  of  hostilities. 

Then  he  asked  me  a  few  questions  about  conditions  in 
America  and  my  impressions  of  Soviet  Russia.  While  we 
were  talking  a  messenger,  who  evidently  did  not  recognize 
the  People's  Commissar  for  War  in  the  genial  looking  officer 
with  whom  I  was  chatting  so  informally,  stopped  to  ask  him 


72  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

the  way  to  the  quarters  of  one  of  the  commissars.  "Excuse 
me  for  a  moment,"  he  said,  and  took  the  trouble  to  explain 
to  the  boy  in  detail  how  to  get  there,  even  pointing  the  way. 
After  which  he  turned  to  me,  expressed  pleasure  at  having 
had  a  little  chat  with  a  bourgeoise  who  had  braved  the  dis- 
comforts of  life  in  Soviet  Russia  to  see  what  was  going  on  in 
there.  I  held  out  my  hand.  To  my  amazement  he  took  it, 
kissed  it,  like  any  conventional  Russian  of  the  old  regime. 
*Au  revoir,  and  a  pleasant  visit,  Madame,"  he  said.  Then, 
with  a  military  salute,  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  was  gone. 

Among  my  friends  in  Moscow  was  a  lady,  a  violent  mon- 
archist, by  the  way,  who  happened  to  be  living  in  the  country 
not  far  from  a  communal  farm  to  which  Trotzki  was  to  pay 
a  visit  of  inspection.  The  agricultural  expert  in  charge  of  the 
work,  wishing  to  entertain  him  properly  on  his  visit,  and  being 
unmarried,  asked  her  to  act  as  hostess  for  him  during  Trotzki's 
stay.  "What,  talk  to  that  brutal  Bolshevik?"  said  my  friend, 
"never."  But  finally  curiosity  got  the  better  of  prejudice 
and  she  went. 

At  dinner,  for  she  was  an  exceedingly  pretty  woman,  he 
devoted  himself  to  her,  talking  conventional  small  talk  so  de- 
lightfully that  she  forgot  entirely,  as  she  told  me,  that  he  was 
her  natural  enemy. 

"Actually,  he  was  just  like  any  other  civilized  person,"  she 
said  in  wonderment. 

Trotzki's  adventures  are  the  source  of  considerable  enter- 
tainment in  Moscow,  and  many  stories  are  whispered  about 
him  in  and  out  of  Soviet  circles.  On  the  part  of  his  inamorata 
they  are  not  always  disinterested,  a  fact  of  which  the  great 
commissar  is  well  aware.  In  prison  I  met  a  young  Ukrainian 
girl  of  great  beauty  and  charm  who  had  been  his  mistress  for 
a  few  weeks  when  he  was  directing  the  campaign  against 
Petlura  in  191 9. 

"Trotzki  told  me  once,"  she  said,  "that  I  was  the  only 
woman  with  whom  he  had  had  an  affair  who  never  asked  him 
for  food  supplies." 

To  return  to  the  Congresses.  The  meeting  of  the  Mos- 
cow Soviet  was  followed  by  the  annual  Communist  party  con- 


THE  GODS  AND  THEIR  MACHINE      73 

vention,  to  which  I  secured  admission  through  Angelica  Bala- 
banova,  then  secretary  of  the  Third  International.  I  sat  on  the 
stage  with  the  Russian  journaHsts  and  a  few  correspondents 
of  foreign  Sociahst  papers,  and  I  was  the  only  non-Socialist 
present,  a  fact  which  was  scored  against  me  at  the  Checka,  as  I 
afterwards  discovered.  From  a  journalistic  standpoint  the 
meeting  was  not  of  particularly  great  interest,  as  the  really 
secret  things  were  not  discussed  openly,  but  in  committee,  and 
the  foreign  policies  of  the  party  played  a  minor  role  in  the 
debates.  The  most  important  matters  discussed  were  the  in- 
auguration of  the  one-man  system  in  factories,  the  working 
army,  and  the  possible  question  of  the  nationalization  of  the 
land.  It  was  easy  to  see  at  that  time  the  tendency  in  the  Com- 
munist party  to  split  on  these  questions,  all  hinging  on  central- 
ization or  decentralization.  One-man  control  of  factories  and 
the  control  of  the  industrial  forces  of  the  country  through 
mobilization  were  opposed  by  many  Communists  who  believed 
in  the  vesting  of  the  principal  power  in  the  Soviets  and  trades 
unions,  but  the  Centralists  were  the  victors. 

Later,  at  the  meeting  of  the  AU-Russian  Council  of  Trades 
Unions,  I  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  how  party  discipline 
worked.  The  unions  nominated  on  their  prsesidium,  or  execu- 
tive body,  a  majority  opposed  to  one-man  control  of  factories. 
These  candidates  would  have  undoubtedly  been  elected,  but 
before  the  elections  the  council  was  told  that  the  Central 
Executive  Committee  of  the  Communist  party  did  not  approve 
its  ticket.  A  majority  in  favor  of  the  new  policy  would  have 
to  be  on  the  prgesidium.  Otherwise  the  council  would  be  dis- 
solved pending  reorganization.  This  policy  was  actually  car- 
ried out  with  regard  to  the  Printers'  and  Bakers'  Unions, 
which  struck  a  little  later.  Their  executive  committees  were 
arrested  and  the  unions  reorganized  along  Communist  lines. 

From  my  standpoint  one  of  the  most  interesting  illustra- 
tions of  the  workings  of  the  Communist  party  machine  was 
in  connection  with  Lord  Robert  Cecil's  proposal  to  send  an 
investigating  committee  to  Russia  from  the  League  of  Na- 
tions. It  was  much  discussed  in  government  circles,  and  a 
number  of  influential  liberals  in  the  party  were  in  favor  of 


74  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

permitting  the  visit  of  the  committee.  Therefore,  when  it 
was  announced  that  the  matter  would  be  debated  at  a  meeting 
of  the  Ispolkom,  the  All-Russian  Central  Executive  Commit- 
tee, of  about  two  hundred  members,  which  is  the  actual  gov- 
erning body  of  the  country,  and  that  press  correspondents 
were  to  be  present,  I  anticipated  a  very  interesting  time.  The 
meeting  was  to  be  held  in  the  assembly  hall  of  the  Commis- 
sariat of  Justice  in  the  Kremlin  at  six  in  the  evening.  I  ar- 
rived early,  took  a  front  seat,  and  awaited  developments.  Six 
o'clock  came  and  only  about  forty  members  were  in  their 
places.  There  was  no  sign  of  Lenin,  Trotzki,  or  any  of  the 
others,  and  a  few  minutes  afterwards  Chicherin  appeared  on 
the  platform,  accompanied  by  the  secretary  of  the  Ispolkom. 
He  announced  that  at  a  meeting  of  the  Central  Executive 
Committee  of  the  Communist  party,  held  an  hour  previously, 
the  text  of  the  reply  to  Lord  Robert  Cecil  had  been  drawn 
up  and  approved.  He  would  read  it  to  the  Ispolkom  and  ask 
for  their  sanctioning  vote.  The  note  was  read,  approved 
without  discussion  or  debate  by  the  few  members  present,  and 
the  proposal  of  the  League  of  Nations  was  officially  turned 
down. 

The  most  picturesque  of  the  many  congresses  at  this  time 
was  that  of  the  Red  Cossacks,  which  was  held  at  the  head- 
quarters of  the  All-Russian  Council  of  Trades  Unions,  in 
what  was  formerly  the  meeting  place  of  Moscow's  assembly 
of  nobles.  There  were  about  three  hundred  and  fifty  dele- 
gates, from  all  parts  of  Russia  and  Siberia,  and  it  was  a  most 
colorful  gathering.  The  Cossacks  wore  their  high,  peaked 
caps,  long  caftans  of  black,  brown  or  blue,  with  hoods  lined 
with  brilliant  color  thrown  back  over  their  shoulders ;  gold 
chased  cartridges  were  stuck  in  the  bandoliers  which  crossed 
their  chests,  and  most  of  them  wore  daggers  in  their  belts  and 
wonderful  swords  inlaid  with  gold  and  precious  stones.  They 
were  a  tumultuous,  noisy  gathering.  Few  of  them  impressed 
me  as  having  any  clear  idea  of  the  principles  of  Communism  ; 
what  appealed  to  them  was  the  assurance  that  under  the  new 
government  they  would  be  able  to  maintain  their  ancient 
boast  of  being  the  ''free  people." 


THE  GODS  AND  THEIR  MACHINE      75 

Through  their  sympathy  with  and  understanding  of  the 
local  nationalistic  feeling  of  Russia's  conglomerate  popula- 
tion, the  Bolsheviks  have  secured  the  loyalty  of  numbers  of 
distinct  racial  groups.  The  "Federative  Republic"  is  not  a 
mere  figure  of  speech.  Counting  the  Ukraine,  which  is  by  far 
the  largest,  it  actually  includes  nineteen  autonomous  republics. 
The  Cossacks  have  not  as  yet  received  autonomy  owing  to  the 
fact  that  there  has  been,  and  still  is  to  some  extent,  civil  war 
in  the  Donski  Oblast,  where  the  majority  of  the  Cossack  popu- 
lation is  concentrated,  and  many  of  their  leaders  are  still 
counter-revolutionary.  If  the  Cossacks  should  decide  to  sup- 
port the  Communist  Government  they  would  have  great 
weight  in  stabilizing  political  conditions  in  Southeastern  Rus- 
sia, as  they  are  better  educated,  more  vigorous  and  energetic 
and  more  intelligent  than  the  Central  Russian  peasant  popula- 
tion. The  great  majority  of  them  are  professional  soldiers, 
and  should  their  loyalty  be  secured  they  would  undoubtedly 
support  the  militaristic  wing  of  the  Communist  party. 

One  of  the  features  of  the  Congress  was  a  Cossack  ex- 
hibit which  presented  in  a  most  attractive  form  a  complete 
survey  of  agriculture,  industry,  education,  and  social  condi- 
tions among  all  the  Cossack  tribes  in  Russia.  It  was  illus- 
trated with  a  number  of  diagrams  in  color,  and,  of  course, 
showed  most  advantageously  what  the  government  had  done 
and  was  doing  for  the  Cossacks  since  the  Revolution.  Then 
there  were  a  number  of  inspiring  revolutionary  posters  and  a 
news  stand  where  propaganda  literature  was  distributed.  One 
of  the  most  original  devices  was  an  electric  sign  board,  fur- 
nished with  plugs  over  which  were  printed  the  questions  the 
average  person  asks  about  the  Soviet  form  of  government. 
"What  is  a  Soviet?"  "How  are  the  Soviets  elected ?"  "What 
is  the  dictatorship  of  the  proletariat?"  "What  are  the  aims  of 
the  world  revolution?"  By  pressing  the  button  below  any 
question  the  corresponding  answer  was  flashed  on  the  board 
in  letters  about  three  inches  high,  and  not  only  the  inquirer  but 
all  who  happened  to  be  passing  by  could  read  it. 

I  often  went  to  the  Trades  Union  headquarters,  the  "Dom 
Soyusov,"  where,  in  addition  to  the  Cossack  Congress  I  have 


76  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

already  described,  I  attended  a  number  of  meetings  and  con- 
certs. It  was  there  that  I  heard  Krassin  make  his  first  public 
report  on  the  progress  of  negotiations  for  the  reopening  of 
trade  with  England,  and  at  the  same  meeting  I  heard  a  speech 
by  Kalenin,  president  of  the  All-Russian  Council  of  Soviets. 
While  not  as  well  known  outside  of  Russia  as  many  of  the 
other  Bolshevik  leaders,  Kalenin,  who  is  a  peasant  himself,  is 
probably  better  known  personally  to  the  peasants,  who  make 
up  ninety  per  cent,  of  Russia's  population,  than  any  of  the 
Soviet  oligarchy,  not  even  excepting  Lenin  and  Trotzki.  He 
spends  very  little  time  in  Moscow,  living  for  the  most  part  on 
his  special  train,  on  which  he  goes  from  one  section  of  the  coun- 
try to  the  other.  Whenever  there  is  trouble  among  the  peas- 
ants, Kalenin  is  always  the  man  to  straighten  it  out,  because 
he  understands  peasant  psychology.  He  is  a  loose-knit,  scrag- 
gly  man  with  an  unkempt  blond  beard,  gentle  blue  eyes,  and 
speaks  with  a  rough  eloquence  that  compels  confidence.  He 
and  Krassin  formed  an  incongruous  pair — the  former  a  thor- 
ough cosmopolitan  in  his  correct  suit  of  English  tweeds,  with 
his  close-clipped  beard  and  well-groomed  appearance,  his  con- 
cise, well-balanced  phrases  and  the  air  of  a  prosperous  busi- 
ness man. 

Losovski,  president  of  the  All-Russian  Council  of  Trades 
Unions,  and  Melnichanski,  the  secretary,  are  two  equally  con- 
trasting types.  Losovski,  whom  I  knew  very  well,  is  a  Rus- 
sian revolutionary  of  the  old  school.  He  spent  many  years 
in  exile  and  in  Siberian  prisons.  He  is  an  incorrigible  idealist, 
and  a  man  of  broad  general  culture.  Melnichanski,  on  the 
other  hand,  belongs  to  a  type  of  the  younger  generation  of 
Communists  which  is  often  met  with  in  Russia.  Emigrating 
to  the  United  States  when  a  mere  boy,  he  worked  in  American 
factories  and  absorbed  American  initiative  and  business  meth- 
ods. His  radicalism  is  of  the  American  stamp.  Under  the 
name  of  Melchner  he  was  one  of  the  ringleaders  in  the  Pat- 
terson strike  some  years  ago,  and  returned  to  Russia  at  the 
beginning  of  the  Revolution  to  introduce  American  union 
methods  of  organization. 

He  was  very  proud  of  his  system  for  registering  the  trades 


THE  GODS  AND  THEIR  MACHINE     77 

union  membership,  which  is  now  over  five  million  in  Russia, 
and  he  showed  me  all  the  departments  of  the  Trades  Union 
Bureau,  which  seemed  to  be  working  with  order  and  despatch. 
In  the  great  banquet  hall  of  the  Dom  Soyusov  he  arranged 
during  the  summer  a  remarkable  historical,  technical  and  scien- 
tific survey  of  the  trades  union  movement  in  Russia,  illus- 
trated with  splendid  diagrams  and  enlivened  by  vivid  propa- 
ganda posters. 

The  meetings  at  the  Dom  Soyusov  took  place  in  the  great 
ballroom  where  the  nobility  of  Moscow  gave  its  superb  fetes 
in  the  old  days.  It  is  a  beautiful  room,  decorated  in  white 
and  gold,  and  hung  with  huge  crystal  chandeliers.  Around 
the  dancing  floor  is  a  row  of  boxes  upholstered  in  crimson 
brocade.  Behind  are  luxurious  dressing-rooms  and  a  special 
suite  reserved  for  the  Czar  and  his  family  when  they  attended 
these  functions.  Now  it  serves  as  a  meeting  and  recreation 
hall  for  thousands  of  plain  workmen.  The  mirrors  in  the 
magnificent  foyers  reflect  linen  blouses,  frieze  coats  and  cotton 
frocks,  instead  of  gold  lace,  velvets  and  satins.  In  the  former 
gaming  room  a  corps  of  clerks  is  busy  filing  records,  and  the 
Holy  of  Holies,  the  room  where  the  nobles  held  their  meet- 
ings, is  reserved  for  the  sessions  of  the  Executive  Committee. 
In  the  chairs  around  the  huge  round  table,  on  the  back  of  which 
are  still  the  inlaid  coats  of  arms  of  the  great  nobles  with 
hereditary  rights  to  sit  in  the  assembly,  metal  workers,  textile 
and  transport  workers  hold  their  deliberations. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  WOMAN'S  PART 

Naturally,  when  I  arrived  in  Russia  I  was  much  interested 
as  a  woman  in  finding  out  all  I  could  about  the  position  of 
women  in  the  Soviet  Republic,  and  one  of  the  first  persons  I 
met  was  Alexandra  Kolontai,  the  only  great  woman  publicist 
among  the  Communists.  As  a  rule  the  Communist  women, 
wives  of  commissars  and  other  prominent  individuals,  devote 
themselves  rather  to  constructive  and  educational  work  than 
propaganda,  but  Balabanova  and  Kolontai  are  the  exceptions. 
I  found  them  both  very  attractive  personalities.  Strangely 
enough,  they  are  both  bourgeoise  by  birth.  Kolontai  is  the 
daughter  of  a  noted  imperial  general,  and  is  a  lady  to  her 
finger  tips.  When  she  is  in  Moscow  she  lives  at  the  National 
Hotel,  where  I  found  her  in  her  room  recovering  from  a  re- 
cent severe  illness.  She  was  wearing  an  exquisite  boudoir 
gown  of  green  velvet  trimmed  with  sable,  her  little  feet  were 
encased  in  velvet  slippers  of  the  same  shade,  and  she  was 
altogether  chic  and  charming.  Evidently  she  has  great  regard 
for  her  personal  appearance,  and  although  not  young,  she  is 
still  an  extremely  pretty  woman  of  the  rather  fragile  blonde 
type.  We  talked  principally  about  the  education  of  children, 
which  is  her  chief  hobby. 

Like  many  other  thoughtful  Communists,  she  believes  the 
present  generation  is  hopeless  so  far  as  making  conscious 
Communists  of  the  masses  is  concerned  and  that,  as  the  Com- 
munists express  it,  "the  children  are  our  future."  She  told 
me  that  she  considered  family  life  absolutely  subversive  to 
the  interests  of  the  Commune,  that  children  should  from  birth 
be  regarded  as  the  property  of  the  State,  that  they  would  de- 
velop a  much  more  genuine  sense  of  social  responsibility  in 
the  atmosphere  of  the  institution  reproducing  the  Commune 

78 


THE  WOMAN'S  PART  79 

than  in  the  home  which  is  under  the  influence  of  the  patri- 
archal system.  As  regards  the  relationship  of  the  sexes  she 
felt  that  it  should  exist  merely  for  the  purpose  of  reproducing 
the  race,  without  restraints  except  those  imposed  by  observ- 
ance of  the  laws  of  eugenics. 

In  pursuance  of  her  theories  she  has  planned  a  new  system 
of  motherhood  endowment  with  pre-natal  and  post-natal  care 
for  mothers  and  babies.  It  was  all  very  interesting,  though  I 
mentally  took  issue  with  her  on  every  point.  She  also  told 
me  something  about  educational  work  among  women  which 
she  found  rather  discouraging,  and  of  her  page  in  the  Sunday 
Pravda,  which  was  devoted  to  women's  work  and  interests. 
While  acknowledging  that  much  must  be  done  in  the  way  of 
civic  education  among  women,  Kolontai  was  not  inclined  to 
treat  the  participation  of  women  in  politics  as  a  separate  prob- 
lem. "We  have  organized  political  propaganda  work  among 
women,"  she  said.  "Here  in  Moscow  there  are  weekly  meet- 
ings of  women  delegates  from  the  large  factories  once  a  week. 
But  women  are  encouraged  to  go  to  all  political  meetings 
and  to  work  in  conjunction  with  and  on  equal  footing  with 
men."  This  is  quite  true — there  is  no  feminism  in  Russia, 
there  are  no  laws,  disadvantages,  or  disabilities  operating 
against  women. 

I  first  had  an  opportunity  of  observing  large  masses  of 
women  together  on  March  8,  International  Women's  Day. 
In  Moscow  all  offices  employing  women  were  closed  at  2 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  there  was  a  special  edition  of  the 
Pravda,  devoted  entirely  to  women's  interests,  and  women's 
mass  meetings  were  held  in  every  section  of  the  town.  I  went 
to  two  with  Angelica  Balabanova,  who  was  the  principal 
speaker  at  both. 

The  first  meeting  was  at  the  Kremlin,  in  the  amphitheater 
of  the  Palace  of  Justice,  a  beautiful  room  in  the  style  of  the 
late  eighteenth  century.  Originally  the  walls  and  columns 
were  pure  white,  but  the  interior  at  present  suggests  a  con- 
fectionery store  at  Christmas  time  more  than  anything  else. 
The  columns  have  been  turnd  into  huge  candy  canes  by  diag- 
onal wrappings  of  red  bunting  and  the  spaces  between  into 


80  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

red  and  white  striped  lozenges  by  means  of  strips  of  the  same 
material  stamped  with  revolutionary  mottoes.  It  was  filled 
with  women  employees  of  the  government  offices  in  the  Krem- 
lin, wearing  the  inevitable  bright-colored  shawl  wound  tightly 
around  their  heads  with  an  end  thrown  over  one  shoulder. 
I  have  often  wondered  if  the  Russian  women  sleep  in  their 
shawls.  Our  little  maid  was  never  without  hers,  and  one  day 
when  I  visited  the  women's  ward  of  a  large  hospital  practi- 
cally every  patient  was  wearing  one  in  bed. 

When  we  arrived  a  government  official  was  in  the  midst 
of  a  long,  tedious  speech.  The  women  were  listening  with  the 
patience  characteristic  of  Russian  audiences,  but  it  was  evident 
that  they  were  bored.  Many  were  half  asleep,  others  staring 
at  the  walls  and  ceiling,  still  others  trying  to  quiet  their  rest- 
less babies.  The  instant  Balabanova  stepped  on  the  stage  there 
was  a  slight  rustle  as  everyone  leaned  forward  to  get  a  close 
look,  for  hers  is  a  personality  that  compels  attention. 

They  saw  a  dumpy  little  woman,  slightly  bent,  wearing  a 
man's  coat  many  sizes  too  large,  the  big  fur  collar  touching 
the  edges  of  an  astrakhan  cap  pulled  far  down  over  her  ears, 
and  carrying  a  long  ebony  cane  with  an  ivory  handle.  Little 
else  about  her  was  visible  except  a  pair  of  wonderful  dark 
eyes.  Throwing  off  her  coat  and  tossing  her  cap  on  the  table, 
she  started  to  speak,  and  every  woman  in  the  hall  was  galvan- 
ized into  instant  interest.  She  talked  not  about  the  doctrines 
of  Communism  but  of  its  practical  application  to  their  imme- 
diate problems,  explaining  the  reasons  for  the  many  hardships 
they  are  enduring  at  present  and  describing  what  the  Soviet 
Government  is  trying  to  do  for  them  and  their  children. 

"You  all  remember  the  days  when  a  washerwoman  was  a 
washerwoman  and  nothing  more,"  she  said.  "She  could  never 
be  anything  else.  Now  she  can  be  anything  she  pleases.  The 
working  women  of  Russia  have  come  into  their  kingdom." 
Finally  she  outlined  in  the  simplest  possible  words  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  International. 

As  she  walked  up  and  down  the  platform,  her  hands  in 
her  pockets,  her  head  thrown  back,  her  tired  face  with  its 
sensitive  mouth  and  luminous  eyes  aglow  with  enthusiasm. 


THE  WOMAN'S  PART  81 

she  was  a  curiously  moving  figure,  and  even  the  fact  that  her 
hair  came  down  and  fell  in  two  long  braids  over  her  shoulders 
did  not  detract  from  the  dignity  of  her  small  person.  Some- 
thing of  her  spirit  seemed  to  catch  the  audience,  for  there  was 
much  applause  when  she  had  finished,  but  that  the  response 
was  emotional  rather  than  intellectual  was  shown  by  the  notes 
written  by  women  in  the  audience  and  sent  to  the  platform 
during  her  speech.  There  were  some  intelligent  questions, 
but  the  majority  were  queries  such  as,  ''Where  can  I  get  a 
pair  of  shoes?"  "When  will  we  get  more  bread?"  or  "Why 
are  there  so  many  churches  in  Moscow  ?"  She  shook  her  head 
as  she  read  them  over. 

"It  is  hard  to  make  women  appreciate  ideals  when  they 
are  cold  and  hungry,"  she  said,  "especially  women  of  this  type 
— unskilled  workers,  former  servants  and  members  of  the 
small  bourgeoisie.  You  will  see  a  different  attitude  among 
the  industrial  workers." 

I  found  this  to  be  true  at  the  next  meeting,  held  at  the 
famous  Prokorov  factory,  where  the  revolution  of  1905 
started  in  Moscow.  Formerly  it  was  one  of  the  largest  tex- 
tile plants  in  Russia,  with  a  yearly  production  of  over  13,000,- 
000  pieces  of  cotton  goods — enough,  as  the  foreman  told  me, 
"to  wrap  the  world  around  three  times."  At  that  time  the 
factory  had  some  raw  material  but  no  fuel,  and  except  for  a 
small  force  employed  in  putting  the  machinery  in  order  work 
was  at  a  standstill. 

When  we  entered  the  factory  dining  room  where  the  meet- 
ing was  to  take  place  it  was  already  half  full,  though  it  was 
nearly  an  hour  ahead  of  time,  and  while  waiting  we  had  a 
chat  with  the  chairman,  herself  a  factory  worker.  Following 
the  modern  revolutionary  fashion,  she  wore  her  hair  cut  short 
like  a  man,  but  there  was  a  feminine  touch  in  her  rhinestone 
earrings  that  seemed  singularly  out  of  place,  emphasizing  her 
rather  masculine  features.  She  had  a  fine,  intelligent  face,  a 
keen,  alert  manner,  and  she  conducted  the  meeting  in  a  way 
that  showed  a  thorough  knowledge  of  parliamentary  pro- 
cedure. The  audience  was  responsive  to  every  word,  and 
there  was  none  of  the  apathy  I  had  noticed  in  the  meeting 


82  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

at  the  Kremlin.  Several  of  the  speakers  were  factory  women, 
and  they  handled  their  subjects  in  a  way  that  would  have 
done  credit  to  a  college  graduate.  As  we  left  the  meeting  I 
noticed  that  Balabanova  seemed  utterly  exhausted,  and  I  found 
out  that  she  had  not  eaten  anything  since  breakfast.  "I  never 
thought  about  it,"  she  said  simply. 

Like  most  of  the  women  workers  in  the  Communist  party 
she  never  spared  herself,  often  speaking  at  three  or  four  meet- 
ings a  day,  besides  working  several  hours  at  her  office.  In 
addition  she  found  time  to  keep  up  with  current  events  in 
Italy,  where  she  spent  more  than  twenty  years,  and  also  acted 
as  interpreter  for  foreign  labor  delegations.  \ 

The  wives  of  most  of  the  People's  Commissars  are  doing 
constructive  work,  among  them  Trotzkaya,  who  is  in  charge 
of  all  the  museums  in  Moscow  and  arranges  popular  exhibits ; 
Lunacharskaya,  who  has  the  supervision  of  a  number  of  chil- 
dren's homes ;  Semaskaya,  wife  of  the  Commissioner  of 
Public  Health,  who  works  as  a  nurses'  aid  in  the  Novo  Alex- 
androffsky  Hospital,  and  Krupkaya,  the  wife  of  Lenin,  who 
is  directing  the  work  of  primary  education  in  Russia  and 
founded  the  rural  colonies  for  children. 

While  there  are  trained  women  workers  in  all  political 
parties  in  Russia,  religion  still  plays  a  great  part  in  the  lives 
of  most  Russian  women,  and  they  are  politically  apathetic. 
The  proportion  of  illiteracy  is  far  greater  among  women  than 
men,  and  they  have  not  the  opportunities  of  overcoming  this 
handicap  which  are  given  every  man  in  the  Red  Army.  The 
women  of  the  former  bourgeoisie  naturally  hold  aloof  from 
politics.  The  vast  majority  of  working  women  are  still  densely 
ignorant  and  too  much  absorbed  in  their  immediate  problems 
to  be  susceptible  to  educational  propaganda.  When  you  work 
from  six  to  eight  hours  a  day,  spend  three  or  four  standing 
in  line  outside  one  of  the  cooperatives  waiting  for  food  and 
clothing  issued  on  cards,  or  dragging  a  hand  sled  loaded  with 
wood  for  several  versts,  cook  your  own  meals,  feeding  four 
mouths  where  there  is  enough  for  two,  you  have  little  time 
for  anything  else.  In  many  cases  the  male  members  of  the 
family  are  in  the  army  and  the  entire  responsibility  devolves 


THE  WOMAN'S  PART  83 

on  the  mothers  and  wives.  The  women  of  Russia  have  borne 
the  brunt  of  the  war,  the  blockade  and  the  economic  crisis. 
Until  normal  conditions  are  restored,  there  can  be  no  extensive 
development  of  the  work  of  training  them  for  citizenship. 

There  has  been  much  talk  in  America  and  Western  Europe 
about  the  immorality  and  sex  demoralization  brought  about 
by  the  Revolution  in  Russia.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  aris- 
tocracy and  the  intellectuals  were  always  extraordinarily  lib- 
eral with  regard  to  sex  relationships;  among  the  former 
divorce  was  far  more  common  than  in  any  other  European 
country,  and  among  the  latter  irregular  relationships  entailed 
no  loss  of  social  standing.  As  is  well  known,  an  enormous 
number  of  professional  prostitutes  existed  in  Czarist  Russia, 
under  government  regulation,  with  their  famous  "yellov 
tickets."  This  class  has  been  entirely  abolished  by  the  Soviet 
Government.  At  first  these  women  were  summarily  dealt 
with.  Large  numbers,  who  were  hopelessly  diseased,  were 
shot  as  the  easiest  form  of  prophylaxis,  others  were  isolated, 
still  others  put  to  work.  Those  belonging  to  the  aristocracy 
of  the  underworld  made  their  escape  to  foreign  countries.  As 
a  result,  there  is  no  open  soliciting  in  the  streets  of  Moscow. 
What  might  be  characterized  as  predatory  vice  has  also  disap- 
peared. Painted  ladies  no  longer  maintain  luxurious  estab- 
lishments, or  lay  their  decoy  nets — the  women  of  the  lower 
classes  are  all  workers,  self-supporting  and  independent,  with 
the  same  wage  scale  as  men.  Types,  such  as  the  old  roues 
and  the  gilded  youth  who  haunted  the  cafes  and  boulevards 
in  former  days  are  nonexistent,  but  to  a  certain,  though  lesser 
extent,  a  new  type  has  arisen  to  take  their  place. 

Every  department  of  every  commissariat  contains  many 
of  these  gentry  who  constitute  what  has  often  been  spoken  of 
as  the  New  Bourgeoisie.  Some  of  these  men  manage  to  live 
within  the  law  or  to  keep  from  being  found  out,  others  are 
adept  at  bribery  or  blackmail,  and  enjoy  immunity,  for  a  con- 
siderable time,  at  least.  Often  they  are  Jews,  occasionally 
former  hourgeoi  who  have  been  clever  opportunists,  and  who 
have  managed  to  construct  a  fair  imitation  of  their  former 
life.     These  men  have  plenty  of  money,  hoards  of  Nikolai 


84  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

roubles,  gold  and  jewels  tucked  away  In  safe  places — ^above 
all,  they  have  access  to  inexhaustible  food  supplies. 

The  girls  who  work  in  Soviet  bureaus  have  none  of  these 
things.  Often  they  have  nonworkers  to  support  on  their 
scanty  pay  and  scantier  rations,  they  need  food,  clothing,  fuel, 
and  they  have  the  irresistible  feminine  love  for  pretty  things. 
The  rich  speculators  can  give  them  everything  they  want — 
it  is  the  same  old  story  of  economic  pressure  about  which 
such  hue  and  cry  is  raised  in  capitalistic  countries,  that  drives 
them  to  irregular  relationships  with  their  associates  or  depart- 
ment chiefs.  The  number  of  kept  women  in  the  Soviet  offices 
is  enormous,  but  as  a  rule  these  liaisons  are  more  or  less  perma- 
nent affairs,  and  there  is  not  much  promiscuity. 

Numbers  of  girls  with  whom  I  talked  were  engaged  to 
the  men  with  whom  they  were  living,  and  they  were  waiting 
for  better  times  before  getting  married.  It  was  difficult  to  find 
living  quarters — perhaps  the  man  had  an  old  father  and 
mother  to  take  care  of,  the  girl  several  brothers  and  sisters. 
It  was  impossible  to  set  up  a  separate  establishment,  therefore 
they  both  lived  at  home  and  met  whenever  they  could.  Many 
women  told  me  frankly  that  they  did  not  want  a  home  or 
children  under  present  living  conditions. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  ran  across  a  peculiar  form  of  graft, 
if  it  can  be  called  by  such  a  term.  There  are  a  number  of 
women  among  the  lower  classes  who  deliberately  have  as  many 
children  as  they  possibly  can  because  of  the  special  privileges 
they  enjoy.  They  receive  special  diet  after  the  first  few 
months  of  pregnancy,  which  is  continued  for  some  time  after 
the  birth  of  the  child.  They  also  enjoy  a  holiday  of  three 
months  with  full  wages  and  rations  and  receive  thirty  arsheens 
of  material  for  the  baby's  outfit.  If  they  do  not  care  to  keep 
the  child  it  can  be  put  in  an  institution.  As  these  women  are 
usually  healthy  animals,  they  do  not  mind  the  physical  dis- 
comforts, and  the  State  relieves  them  of  any  moral  responsi- 
bility for  their  offspring.  It  is  an  easy  way  of  making  a 
comfortable  living. 

In  the  foyers  of  the  vaudeville  theaters  where  the  rich 
commissars  and  their  mistresses  congregate  I  saw  wonderful 


THE  WOMAN'S  PART  85 

jewels  and  superb  costumes.  The  women  were  often  marvel- 
ously  bedizened  and  painted,  but  they  lacked  the  chic  of  the 
professional  courtesan.  I  saw  few  who  appeared  to  belong 
definitely  to  this  class.  Many  of  them  were  obviously  work- 
ing women  who  were  apeing  the  manners  and  morals  of  their 
former  employers.  I  once  heard  a  rather  amusing  story  in 
this  connection. 

A  Red  workman  in  Petrograd  took  a  seat  in  a  trolley  car 
next  to  a  gorgeously  gowned,  highly  perfumed  lady  who  fairly 
exuded  luxury.  He  began  to  reproach  her  for  being  a  bour- 
geoise,  accusing  her  of  belonging  to  the  class  that  had  lived  so 
long  on  the  blood  of  the  proletariat. 

"And  you  are  still  at  your  old  tricks,"  he  cried,  "still  man- 
aging to  keep  your  furs  and  fine  clothes,  by  crooked  means, 
no  doubt,  while  honest  working  women  in  Petrograd  are 
going  without  coats  and  shoes." 

"Aw,  keep  your  mouth  shut,"  she  answered  in  the  Russian 
vernacular,  "I'm  the  mistress  of  a  fool  of  a  workman  like  you !" 
On  the  whole,  however,  except  for  juvenile  immorality,  of 
which  I  shall  have  something  to  say  in  another  chapter,  I  am 
inclined  to  think  that  the  Revolution  had  rather  a  stabilizing 
effect  on  morals  than  otherwise.  The  often  repeated  story  of 
nationalization  of  women  is  regarded  as  a  joke  in  Russia  by 
those  who  have  seen  articles  published  abroad  on  the  subject. 
The  vast  majority  of  the  people  stare  at  you  in  blank,  incom- 
prehending  amazement  if  you  allude  to  it.  The  theory  was 
advanced  in  a  little  newspaper  published  in  Saratov  by  a  small 
group  of  Anarchists,  but  purely  as  a  speculative  fancy,  and 
even  they  did  not  take  it  seriously. 


CHAPTER  IX 
SOVIET  WEDDINGS 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  people  get  married  and  divorced  by 
Soviet  decrees  in  Russia  very  much  as  they  do  in  any  other 
country.  The  government  recognizes  only  civil  marriages 
performed  before  a  magistrate,  and  the  fact  of  such  a  mar- 
riage entitles  the  married  couples  to  mutual  legal  rights.  For 
example,  in  case  a  husband  and  wife  wish  to  separate,  they 
must  appear  before  the  magistrate,  state  the  reasons,  arrange 
for  an  equable  division  of  their  personal  effects,  for  the  dis- 
position of  the  children,  who,  if  they  are  not  of  an  age  to 
choose  for  themselves,  may  be  awarded  to  either  parent  or 
committed  to  one  of  the  children's  institutions  at  the  discre- 
tion of  the  magistrate.  Questions,  such  as  to  which  one  shall 
occupy  the  apartment  where  both  have  been  living  together, 
are  also  settled  before  the  magistrate. 

It  is  very  simple  to  get  married  and  equally  simple  to  get 
divorced.  Persons  desiring  to  be  married  appear  before  one 
of  the  judges  of  the  People's  Court  in  their  "Rayon,"  or  police 
district,  bringing  two  witnesses  who  certify  that  they  have 
known  the  contracting  parties  for  some  time  and  that  there 
is  no  obstacle  to  their  marriage.  Then  they  are  registered  by 
the  magistrate  as  man  and  wife.  In  most  cases  the  wife  re- 
tains her  maiden  name.  This  is  partly  because  the  women 
consider  it  a  sign  of  independence,  partly  because  there  are 
regulations  forbidding  husband  and  wife  to  work  in  the  same 
bureau.  The  wives  of  the  great  commissars  are  usually 
known  by  their  maiden  names;  thus  the  wife  of  Lenin,  who 
is  much  interested  in  the  organization  of  the  children's  colo- 
nies, is  known  as  Krupkaya;  Gorky's  wife  as  Peschkova. 
Kolontai  has  had  any  number  of  husbands,  the  last  being  a 
soldier  twenty  years  younger  than  herself,  who  recently  de- 
serted her,  but  she  has  always  kept  her  own  name. 

86 


SOVIET  WEDDINGS  87 

A  divorce  may  be  obtained  in  the  same  manner  before  a 
judge  of  the  People's  Court  in  a  very  short  time — three  weeks, 
with  the  consent  of  both  parties;  in  six  months  if  one  of  the 
parties  disagrees.  There  are  no  legal  disabihties  attached  to 
illegitimate  children,  and  the  father  is  forced  to  assume  the 
responsibility  for  them  should  occasion  arise.  Neither  is  an 
irregular  relationship  looked  upon  askance. 

Among  the  lower  classes,  however,  old-fashioned  ideas 
still  prevail.  I  had  an  illustration  of  this  one  day  when  I  was 
walking  along  the  Tverskaya.  There  was  a  great  commotion 
in  a  side  street,  and  a  woman  came  running  out,  her  hair 
down,  her  face  scratched,  screaming  like  a  maniac.  She  was 
pursued  by  a  good-sized  crowd,  in  the  center  of  which  was 
another  woman,  the  embodiment  of  one  of  the  furies.  She 
and  the  rest  of  the  crowd  were  sending  showers  of  stones  after 
the  fugitive.  I  ducked  one  which  came  perilously  near  me, 
then,  retiring  to  the  shelter  of  a  doorway,  awaited  develop- 
ments. The  first  woman  ran  straight  into  the  arms  of  a 
militiaman,  who  halted  the  entire  mob,  and  began  to  ask  ques- 
tions of  the  second  woman,  who  was  evidently  the  aggressor. 
"Paugh,"  she  said,  spitting  violently,  a  habit  of  the  Rus- 
sians when  either  frightened  or  angry,  "she  is  a  worthless 
wench.  I  go  out  to  work  and  I  come  home  and  find  her  with 
my  husband.  I  will  tear  her  to  pieces ;  let  me  get  at  her,"  and 
she  made  a  threatening  gesture,  cheered  on  by  the  crowd, 
which  was  entirely  in  sympathy  with  her  righteous  indigna- 
tion. The  militiaman  was  impartial  and  led  them  both  off  to 
settle  their  differences  in  the  People's  Court. 

There  are  still  many  church  weddings  in  Moscow.  I  often 
used  to  drop  in  at  various  churches  while  weddings  were  going 
on,  and  once  I  was  a  guest  at  a  regular  old-fashioned  Russian 
wedding.  It  was  at  the  home  of  a  Mme.  B ,  whose  hus- 
band was  formerly  one  of  the  most  fashionable  tailors  in  Mos- 
cow. He  had  been  arrested  nearly  a  year  before  I  made  their 
acquaintance,  because  in  a  raid  on  the  apartment  in  which 
they  lived  a  circular  letter  written  in  Kerensky's  time,  recom- 
mending the  Moscow  merchant  tailors  to  organize  in  order 
to  combat  the  excessive  demands  of  the  workmen,  had  been 


88  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

found  among  his  papers.  He  was  held  for  two  months  in  the 
Checka,  where  he  died  of  typhus  before  his  case  came  up  for 
trial.  Taking  advantage  of  the  decree,  which,  with  variations, 
has  always  been  in  force,  permitting  the  existence  of  small 
"artels,"  or  workshops,  consisting  of  from  ten  to  fifty  indi- 
viduals, all  of  whom  worked  together  on  a  cooperative  basis, 
and  being  over  the  legal  working  age  himself,  he  had  main- 
tained his  business  in  a  small  way  and  managed  to  support  his 
family  very  comfortably. 

The  business  was  carried  on  after  his  death  by  Mme. 

B ,  her  two  nieces  and  her  son,  who  was  serving  his  term 

in  the  Red  Army,  but  had  managed  through  pull  to  secure  an 
assignment  to  duty  in  the  War  Office  at  Moscow,  where  he 
served  for  only  a  few  hours  each  day,  being  free  the  rest  of 
the  time  to  devote  his  attention  to  the  workshop.  They  had  a 
great  many  orders  from  rich  commissars,  who  do  not  pur- 
chase all  their  clothes  from  the  Soviet  stores  by  any  means. 
One  day  when  I  dropped  into  the  shop  I  saw  a  good-looking 
young  man  being  fitted  for  a  suit  of  English  tweeds.  When 
he  left  Mme.  B.  told  me  that  he  had  ordered  nine  suits,  an 
overcoat  and  a  fur-lined  ulster  for  his  trousseau,  as  he  ex- 
pected to  be  married  very  shortly. 

Mme.  B.'s  niece  was  to  be  married  in  a  few  weeks,  and  I 
was  invited  to  the  wedding,  which  took  place  at  five  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  at  a  large  church  not  far  from  her  apartment 
on  the  Povarskaya,  formerly  one  of  the  most  fashionable  resi- 
dence streets  of  Moscow.  I  went  to  their  home  and  walked 
to  the  church,  which  was  only  a  short  distance  away,  with  an 
elderly  friend  of  the  family.  The  bridal  party  was  driven  in 
carriages.  My  escort  was  very  correct  in  a  frock  coat  of 
sonlewhat  antiquated  pattern,  it  is  true,  and  the  cousin  of  the 
bride  was  smart  in  an  English  morning  coat  and  striped  trou- 
sers, with  a  white  boutonniere  in  his  buttonhole.  The  same 
costume  was  worn  by  the  groom,  a  prosperous  young 
enpneer,  and  his  best  man. 

On  entering  the  church,  the  bride,  with  her  attendants,  ten 
pretty  bridesmaids  in  white  frocks,  carrying  large  bouquets 
of  phlox,  accompanied  by  the  members  of  her  family  and  inti- 


SOVIET  WEDDINGS  89 

mate  friends,  turned  to  the  left  of  the  door  and  waited.  The 
family  of  the  groom  occupied  the  lower  right-hand  corner  of 
the  church.  In  a  few  minutes  the  doors  of  the  sanctuary, 
flanked  by  innumerable  pictures  of  saints  which  take  the  place 
of  an  altar  in  the  Greek  church,  opened  to  admit  the  priest, 
who  advanced  down  the  main  aisle  of  the  basilica.  He  was 
an  imposing  old  man  with  a  long  flowing  grey  beard  and  a 
fiine  patriarchal  face.  He  wore  a  gorgeous  robe  of  green  and 
gold  brocade,  and  carried  a  superb  prayerbook  in  his  hands. 
On  his  head  was  a  curious  miterlike  headdress  of  gold  galoon 
encrusted  with  real  or  imitation  stones.  He  advanced  to 
where  the  groom  was  standing  with  his  best  man,  took  him 
by  the  hand  and  led  him  across  to  the  bride,  placing  his  hand 
in  hers.  Then,  turning,  he  led  the  way  to  the  sanctuary,  fol- 
lowed by  the  bridal  couple,  the  attendants  and  family,  among 
whom  I  was  included,  while  a  wedding  march  was  chanted 
by  the  choir.  In  the  Russian  churches  there  are  no  organs, 
but  the  unaccompanied  Gregorian  chant  is  often  very  beautiful, 
and  it  was  superb  on  this  occasion,  for  this  particular  church 
had  one  of  the  finest  choirs  in  Moscow. 

The  ceremony  was  long  and  exceedingly  complicated.  Dur- 
ing the  entire  time  the  best  man  and  maid  of  honor  held  huge 
gilt  crowns  over  the  heads  of  the  bride  and  groom,  there 
were  many  prayers  and  a  short  homily  on  the  married  state 
by  the  priest.  Then,  followed  by  the  bridal  couple  and  their 
two  attendants,  still  holding  the  crowns  over  their  heads,  he 
marched  three  times  around  the  huge  Bible  on  a  gilded  lectern 
which  stood  in  the  center  of  the  church  just  outside  the  sanc- 
tuary rail.  During  the  entire  ceremony  the  guests  and  spec- 
tators remained  standing,  for  there  are  no  pews  or  chairs  in 
Orthodox  churches.  There  were  many  places  in  the  service 
where  they  all  bowed  and  crossed  themselves  several  times. 
After  the  final  blessing  everybody  present  kissed  the  priest's 
hand,  and  the  Bible,  filing  in  line  before  the  lectern,  then  the 
priest  and  all  the  guests  kissed  the  bride  and  we  all  went  home 
to  a  beautiful  wedding  supper. 

It  consisted  of  cold  meats,  delicious  Russian  salad,  hot 
meat  croquettes  with  fried  potatoes,    white    rolls,    elaborate 


90  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

cakes  of  all  kinds,  bonbons  and  fruit,  followed  by  coffee.  We 
drank  kvass,  a  plebeian  drink,  something  like  a  cross  betv/een 
poor  beer  and  cider,  which  is  the  Russian  2,75  in  a  country 
of  prohibition.  There  had  been  much  discussion  before  hand 
as  to  whether  we  should  have  champagne,  but  as  there  were 
at  least  fifty  guests,  and  the  price  of  champagne,  plenty  of  which 
could  be  bought  from  Soviet  bootleggers,  was  about  35.000 
roubles  a  bottle,  it  was  decided  that  it  would  be  unjustifiable 
extravagance  under  the  circumstances. 

We  were  seated  at  a  long,  narrow  table  extending  around 

three  sides  of  Mme.  B 's  handsome  dining  room,  beautifully 

decorated  with  bowls  of  cut  summer  flowers.  The  bride 
looked  very  pretty  in  a  real  white  satin  gown  with  white  silk 
stockings  and  white  kid  slippers.  There  were  innumerable 
speeches,  the  bride's  health  was  drunk  in  kvass,  then  the  table 
was  taken  away  by  the  young  men-of  the  party  and  we  danced 
to  the  music  of  a  graphophone,  alternating  with  French 
waltzes  and  Russian  dances  played  on  the  piano  by  one  of  the 
guests,  and  the  party  did  not  break  up  until  long  after  mid- 
night. 

In  view  of  the  high  prices  and  scarcity  of  everything  in 
Revolutionary  Moscow,  a  rough  estimate  of  the  cost  of  the 
party  is  rather  interesting.  To  begin  with  there  was  the 
bride's  costume.  Her  satin  frock  was  homemade,  but  the 
material  cost  about  eighty  thousand  roubles,  the  silk  stockings 
eighteen  thousand  roubles  a  pair,  the  kid  slippers  forty  thou- 
sand. The  bridesmaids'  frocks,  also  homemade,  and  of  silk 
mull,  cost  about  thirty  thousand  roubles  apiece,  their  bouquets 
five  thousand  each,  and  the  flowers  on  the  table  represented 
roughly  twenty  thousand  roubles.  The  priest  received  ten 
thousand  roubles  as  his  fee,  the  choir  about  the  same  and  then 
there  was  the  expense  of  lighting  and  cleaning  the  church  and 
the  verger's  fee,  which  amounted  to  several  thousand  roubles 

more.     The  supper,  Mme.  B told  me,  cost  over  half  a 

million.  In  all  she  calculated  that  she  had  spent  nearly  a  mil- 
lion roubles  on  the  wedding.  She  had  not  had  to  buy  a  dress 
for  herself  as  she  had  many  costumes  left  over  from  the  old 
days  which  could  be  made  over. 


SOVIET  WEDDINGS  91 

Among  the  guests  at  the  wedding  was  a  pretty  young  girl 
who  was  a  student  at  the  Moscow  Conservatory  of  Music. 
Her  father,  who  was  a  well-known  general,  had  died  some 
years  previously,  and  her  three  brothers,  all  guard  officers, 
had  been  shot  at  the  beginning  of  the  Revolution.  She  and 
her  mother  lived  in  one  room  and  kept  themselves  from  starving 
by  selling  their  old  clothes,  household  linen  and  jewelry,  though 
they  did  the  latter  at  considerable  risk,  as  selling  gold  or  pre- 
cious stones  is  illegal.  Nevertheless,  her  hair  was  waved  and 
arranged  in  a  tousled  mass  of  curls,  Russian  fashion;  she  wore 
a  black  velvet  dress  that  had  seen  better  days,  and  a  handsome 
white  fox  around  her  neck,  though  the  wedding  was  in  mid- 
summer. Such  incongruities  are  features  of  Soviet  fashions. 
People  wear  what  they  have,  irrespective  of  the  seasons,  and 
it  is  no  uncommon  sight  to  see  women  wearing  superb  sable 
furs  in  midsummer,  covering  ragged  gowns,  and  silk  frocks 
during  working  hours  in  government  offices. 

The  young  couple  were  given  a  bedroom  and  sitting-room 
in  Mme.  B 's  seven-room  apartment,  which  she  had  man- 
aged to  keep  intact  through  personal  friendship  with  the  chair- 
man of  the  housing  committee.  They  took  no  wedding  trip. 
It  is  impossible  to  secure  permits  to  travel  in  Russia  without 
all  sorts  of  passes,  and  unless  they  were  traveling  on  official 
business  it  would  not  have  been  possible  for  them  to  secure 
accommodations  in  government  hotels,  so  they  just  said  good- 
night to  the  guests  and  settled  down  in  their  rooms,  which  had 
been  painted  and  repapered  for  them  by  Mme.  B . 

It  is  hard  to  live  in  Russia  at  the  present  time,  but  it  is 
equally  hard  to  die  decently,  as  I  found  out  upon  the  death  of 
the  father  of  one  of  my  friends,  a  former  Imperial  general  of 
an  old  and  historic  family.  Great  commissars  and  party  lead- 
ers are  accorded  magnificent  funerals  like  that  of  the  Commis- 
sar of  Posts  and  Telegraphs,  whose  obsequies  I  have  already 
described,  for  in  such  cases  reverence  is  accorded  to  the  idea 
and  not  the  person.  But  in  the  case  of  ordinary  individuals  the 
dead  are  disposed  of  like  so  much  waste  paper.  When  the  gen- 
eral died  his  family  were  most  anxious  to  have  him  buried 
according  to  the  rites  of  the  Orthodox  church,  and  this  entailed 


92  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

no  end  of  red  tape  and  trouble.  In  the  first  place,  after  obtain- 
ing the  certificate  of  death  they  had  to  secure  permission  to 
keep  the  body  in  the  house  beyond  the  fixed  period  of  twenty- 
four  hours  after  his  decease,  and  they  were  obliged  to  procure 
special  permission  to  hold  religious  services  in  their  apart- 
ment. Ordinarily  officials  from  the  Department  of  Health 
would  have  come  to  their  home,  placed  the  body  in  a  rough 
board  coffin,  and  have  carried  it  on  a  dray  with  the  bodies  of 
other  persons  who  had  died  during  the  preceding  twenty-four 
hours,  to  one  of  the  public  cemeteries.  There  it  would  have 
been  dumped  in  a  common  grave  and  the  coffin,  in  all  probabil- 
ity, saved  to  do  service  again.  All  this  would  have  been  done 
without  any  expense  whatever  to  the  family.  As  it  was,  the 
State  provided  nothing.  The  general's  daughter  was  obliged 
to  go  out,  buy  boards  for  a  coffin,  find  a  carpenter  to  make  it, 
and  bring  it  to  their  apartment  on  a  pushcart.  Then  a  cart 
and  horse  had  to  be  hired  to  take  the  body  to  the  cemetery, 
a  man  found  to  dig  the  grave  and  permission  secured  from 
the  authorities  for  separate  burial.  All  this  took  eight  days 
and  cost  the  family  over  a  hundred  thousand  roubles. 

I  saw  several  cemeteries  in  Moscow,  among  them  the  ceme- 
tery of  Novodievoche,  where  the  composer  Scriabine,  Tchekov 
the  playwright,  the  members  of  the  Stolypin  family  and  many 
other  noted  Russians  are  buried.  Here  the  anarchist  prince, 
Peter  Kropotkin,  who  died  during  my  stay  in  Moscow,  was 
buried  in  consecrated  ground.  I  also  noticed  the  graves  of  a 
number  of  Communists  within  the  enclosure  distinguishable 
from  the  others  only  by  the  fact  that  they  lacked  the  Greek 
cross  which  forms  the  headstone  of  every  Orthodox  grave. 
The  cemetery  was  in  good  condition,  none  of  the  graves  had 
been  disturbed  in  any  way,  and  many  of  them  were  decorated 
with  growing  plants  and  flowers.  In  this  as  in  many  other 
respects  the  Russians  are  slow  to  abandon  tradition,  and  no 
amount  of  materialistic  teaching  will  ever  stamp  out  their  rev- 
erence for  their  dead. 


CHAPTER  X 
BOURJEOI 

After  I  had  been  in  Moscow  for  a  few  weeks  I  got  tired  of 
doing  purely  official  things,  made  friends  outside  the  narrow 
circle  of  the  Foreign  Office  around  which  the  life  of  most  cor- 
respondents revolves,  and  began  to  get  an  idea  of  how  the 
average  family  lives  in  Russia. 

The  people  who  lived  best  in  Moscow  were  the  big  specu- 
lators. They  were  quite  different  from  the  small  fry  that 
haunted  the  markets  or  engaged  in  house-to-house  trade.  There 
was  a  certain  class  that  dealt  in  foreign  exchange  and  Czar 
roubles,  turning  over  millions  every  day.  You  could  get  a 
quotation  on  almost  every  sort  of  foreign  currency,  the  ex- 
change fluctuating  according  to  the  political  and  international 
situation.  Before  the  departure  of  large  repatriation  echelons, 
francs,  pounds  and  dollars  were  always  greatly  in  demand  and 
increased  in  value  accordingly. 

Many  persons  were  engaged,  in  cooperation  with  Letts 
and  Esthonians,  in  smuggling  rugs,  paintings,  jewels  and 
bibelots  out  of  the  country.  This  was  comparatively  easy  to 
do,  as  Lettish  and  Esthonian  subjects,  under  the  terms  of  the 
peace  treaties,  had  the  right  to  take  their  personal  belongings 
with  them,  and  they  could  claim  as  their  own  articles  later  to 
be  sold  in  Reval  or  Riga,  the  money  to  be  deposited  in  a  bank 
to  the  credit  of  the  Russian  owner  after  the  middleman  had 
deducted  his  commission.  I  knew  a  woman  in  Moscow  who 
made  over  two  millions  a  month  in  this  business. 

Other  people,  fantastic  as  it  may  seem,  bought  and  sold 
real  estate,  on  paper,  of  course,  for  future  delivery  when  the 
right  of  private  property  would  be  re-established.  A  flour- 
ishing trade  was  done  in  passports  to  foreign  countries,  per- 
mits to  travel  on  the  railroads,  food  cards  and  Soviet  food 
supplies. 

93 


94  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

While  official  demoralization  is  undoubtedly  widespread  in 
Russia  I  do  not  think  it  quite  fair  to  attribute  the  corruption  in 
official  circles  entirely  to  the  Bolshevik  regime.  It  was  an 
accepted  fact  under  the  old  regime  that  bribery  played  an  im- 
portant part  in  all  business  or  official  transactions,  and  things 
have  remained  very  much  the  same. 

To  live  on  Soviet  rations  was  next  to  impossible  but  nearly 
everyone  in  Moscow  had  other  sources  from  which  to  buy 
food  supplies.  Few  people  had  the  right  sort  of  food,  how- 
ever, and  the  shortage  of  fats  and  sugar  caused  a  great  deal 
of  anaemia  and  under-nourishment.  On  the  whole,  I  believe 
that  during  my  stay  in  Moscow,  while  many  people  were  half 
starved,  there  were  no  actual  deaths  from  starvation,  and  the 
available  food  supplies  were  equably  distributed.  There  was 
never  a  time  when  people  who  had  money  could  not  buy  prac- 
tically everything  they  wished. 

One  day,  quite  by  accident,  I  dropped  into  one  of  the  many 
little  mushroom  shops  which  had  sprung  up  in  Moscow,  where 
varenyets,  or  curdled  milk,  could  be  bought  in  glasses,  and 
white  rolls  and  pastry  were  sold  at  fabulous  prices.  The  man 
who  waited  on  me  was  a  distinguished  looking  old  gentleman, 
evidently  very  superior  to  his  present  job.  I  began  to  talk 
with  him  and  found  out  that  he  was  a  former  Colonel  in  the 
Russian  Army.  Being  above  the  age  limit,  he  was  not  obliged 
to  work  in  a  Soviet  office,  and  he  had  agreed  to  keep  shop  a 
certain  number  of  hours  each  day  for  a  Jew  who  was  running 
the  place.  He  invited  me  to  his  house,  where  I  was  afterwards 
a  frequent  visitor. 

His  wife  worked  in  one  of  the  branches  of  the  Department 
of  Education,  his  only  son  had  just  taken  his  degree  in  medi- 
cine at  the  University  of  Moscow  and  was  a  Red  Army  physi- 
cian. His  daughter  was  employed  as  a  clerk  in  the  "Glav 
Kozh,"  Leather  Central,  a  branch  of  the  Centro  Soyous,  which 
controls  distribution  in  Russia.  Between  them,  therefore,  they 
had  three  payoks,  or  food  rations.  The  son  was  drawing  Red 
Army  rations,  which  were  about  double  those  obtained  by 
civilian  employees.  They  were  living  in  their  old  apartment 
of  six  rooms,  four  of  which  they  occupied,  two  being  assigned 


BOURJEOI  95 

to  other  persons.  That  they  had  so  much  room  was  due  to 
the  fact  that  the  Colonel's  wife  was  chairman  of  the  "Hous- 
ing Committee,"  which  exists  in  every  dwelling  and  apartment 
house  in  Moscow,  under  a  department  of  the  Commissariat  of 
Labor.  According  to  the  regulations  of  the  Central  Housing 
Committee,  each  citizen  is  allowed  a  certain  number  of  cubic 
feet  for  his  lodgings,  but  these  regulations  are  often  honored 
more  in  the  breach  than  the  observance.  Those  who  know  how 
to  get  on  the  good  side  of  the  regional  commissar,  by  bribery 
or  otherwise,  are  frequently  allowed  to  keep  their  old  quarters, 
and  if  they  give  up  any  of  their  rooms,  to  choose  their  own 
tenants,  and  this  was  the  case  with  my  friends. 

They  kept  no  servant,  the  mother  and  daughter  doing  all 
the  cooking.  They  received  their  food  rations  through  the 
offices  where  they  worked,  supplementing  them  by  selling  off 
their  clothes,  furniture  and  jewelry.  They  had  to  make  all 
the  repairs  themselves  in  this  apartment.  If  the  plumbing 
system  broke  down  the  father  had  to  mend  it;  if  a  window 
was  broken  it  had  to  be  patched  with  paper.  They  had  man- 
aged to  buy  enough  wood  to  keep  fires  in  the  kitchen  and  in 
two  of  the  rooms,  the  wood  assigned  them,  which  they  were 
obliged  to  go  some  distance  to  get  and  bring  home  themselves, 
not  being  sufficient  to  keep  one  stove  going  for  more  than 
three  months  of  the  year.  It  was  given  them  in  the  form  of 
logs,  which  the  father  or  the  son  had  to  saw  into  the  proper 
lengths  in  the  courtyard  of  the  apartment  and  carry  up  four 
flights  of  stairs  as  no  elevators  have  run  in  Moscow  for  sev- 
eral years.  To  procure  the  wood  was  a  matter  of  time  and 
endless  formalities.  First  it  was  necessary  to  have  a  Trudo- 
vaya  Knizhka,  or  workers'  book,  showing  where  the  appli- 
cant for  wood  was  employed.  Everyone  in  Moscow  between 
the  ages  of  sixteen  and  fifty  must  be  provided  with  one  of 
these  books,  otherwise  it  is  not  only  impossible  for  him  to  ob- 
tain lodgings,  food  or  clothing  from  the  government  stores, 
but  he  may  be  arrested  at  any  time  as  a  work  deserter  and 
condemned  for  a  period  of  months  to  compulsory  labor. 

Until  recently  it  was  not  possible  for  workers  to  choose 
their  place  of  employment.    They  were  registered  at  the  Work 


96  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

Exchange  and  assigned  to  work  where  they  were  most  needed. 
Often  this  system  caused  great  hardships,  as  in  the  case  of 
a  friend  of  mine,  a  widow  with  one  child,  who  was  assigned 
to  work  in  an  office  at  least  six  versts  from  her  residence.  As 
she  had  no  relatives  with  whom  she  could  leave  him,  and  was 
unwilling  to  put  him  in  a  children's  home,  she  endeavored  to 
find  work  in  an  office  nearer  her  lodgings,  and  secured  a  tenta- 
tive offer  from  a  Soviet  official  for  employment  at  a  higher 
salary  than  what  she  was  then  getting,  provided  she  could  be 
released  from  her  old  position.  Not  only  was  release  refused 
her,  but  she  was  arrested  on  a  charge  of  insubordination  and 
condemned  to  six  months  of  compulsory  work,  which  consisted 
of  cleaning  toilets  in  government  offices.  She  was  a  highly 
educated  person  and  could  speak  five  languages,  but  she  was 
obliged  to  do  this  disgusting  work  as  the  price  for  her  temerity. 
In  addition  to  the  workers'  book,  it  was  also  necessary,  in 
order  to  secure  wood,  to  have  an  order  from  your  place  of 
employment  which  was  to  be  presented  at  the  regional  office 
of  the  Moscow  Fuel  Committee  and  exchanged  for  an  order 
signed  by  the  committee,  after  which  you  had  to  wait  until 
there  was  a  distribution  of  fuel  in  your  region,  then  go  to  the 
appointed  place,  stand  in  line  and  wait  your  turn  for  fuel. 
Sometimes,  if  you  were  not  early,  the  supply  gave  out  and  you 
were  obliged  to  come  back  another  day. 

The  same  process  must  be  gone  through  in  order  to  pur- 
chase shoes,  clothing  or  household  utensils  or  furnishings,  and 
to  draw  the  weekly  food  rations  on  cards.  Actually  this  sys- 
tem did  much  to  hinder  the  efficiency  of  government  offices, 
as  the  employees  lost  a  number  of  days  in  each  month  collecting 
their  supplies  and  rations. 

My  friends  told  me  that  frequently  supplies  assigned  on 
cards  were  either  not  given  out  at  the  appointed  time  or  that 
all  were  gone,  and  if  they  needed  anything  at  once  they  were 
compelled  to  go  to  the  Soukharevka,  Moscow's  illegal  market, 
and  purchase  them  at  speculative  prices.  Once  they  received 
no  bread  for  seventeen  days  from  their  local  distributing  center, 
while  people  in  other  parts  of  Moscow  were  receiving  their 
regular  ration.     During  this  time  they  were  obliged  to  buy 


BOURJEOI  97 

bread  in  the  open  market  for  five  hundred  roubles  a  pound. 

The  working  hours  of  the  mother  and  daughter  were  from 
ten  till  five  daily,  until  two  o'clock  on  Saturdays,  with  Sundays 
free.  The  daughter  was  studying  dancing  at  the  Moscow 
Ballet  School,  receiving  her  tuition  free,  and  she  attended  her 
classes  after  office  hours.  The  mother  did  all  the  housework 
and  cooking,  the  daughter  did  the  laundry  work  in  her  odd 
moments,  but  they  both  managed  to  keep  well,  even  elegantly 
dressed,  and  still  used  silver  on  their  table,  which  they  care- 
fully secreted  whenever  there  was  a  raid  on  the  apartment, 
which  happened  occasionally.  The  Colonel  had  also  managed 
to  conceal  his  commission,  his  sword  and  many  relics  of  army 
days.  They  had  few  pleasures,  occasionally  receiving  tickets 
for  the  theater  from  the  office  where  they  worked,  but  they 
were  usually  too  tired  to  go  out  at  night.  They  could  go  to  a 
public  library  to  read  and  could  take  out  books  for  home  read- 
ing if  they  pertained  to  the  work  of  their  department,  but  they 
could  buy  no  books  or  other  reading  matter.  The  mother  and 
father  lived  mainly  in  the  past.  The  daughter  belonged  to  a 
club  in  her  office,  which  sometimes  gave  dances  and  informal 
parties,  spent  her  meager  salary  on  perfumes,  and  powdered 
her  nose  like  any  New  York  stenographer. 

I  was  often  a  guest  at  the  five  o'clock  dinner  which  was 
their  only  real  meal  during  the  twenty-four  hours.  A  typical 
menu  was  potato  soup,  black  bread,  kasha,  butter  and  tea. 
They  had  a  litde  real  tea,  which  they  hoarded  very  carefully. 
Usually  there  was  no  sugar  for  tea,  and  they  substituted  rai- 
sins. Salt  herrings,  prepared  with  artificial  vinegar,  cucum- 
bers and  potatoes  were  luxuries.  One  day  when  I  arrived  at 
dinner  time  they  told  me  that  they  had  a  real  treat  for  me,  and 
the  daughter  produced  a  pound  of  butter  which  she  had  bought 
in  exchange  for  a  pair  of  silk  stockings  and  a  tiny  piece  of 
chocolate  given  to  her  by  the  chief  of  her  department,  with 
whom  she  was  on  very  good  terms.  They  were  all  officially 
bes  partini,  nonpartisans,  but  they  spent  their  time  in  abusing 
the  Soviet  Government  and  bemoaning  the  past.  They  were 
absolutely  without  patriotism  or  national  feeling,  hoped  the 
Poles  would  begin  active  hostilities  and  take  Moscow,  had  a 


98  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

fairly  superstitious  reverence  for  all  foreigners,  and  a  humility 
that  was  almost  servile  and  which  I  found  rather  repulsive. 
This  is  typical  of  the  attitude  of  the  middle  class  bourgeois 
Russian. 

A  favorite  expression  of  these  unhappy  bourgeois  with  re- 
gard to  present-day  conditions  in  Russia  was  Koschemar,  a 
corruption  of  the  French  word,  "Cauchemar" — nightmare. 
Many  of  them  felt  that  they  were  indeed  living  in  the  midst  of 
a  terrible  dream. 

Through  them  I  met  General  Brusilov,  whom  I  found  to  be 
of  a  very  different  stamp.  I  often  visited  him  and  his  wife 
at  their  apartment  at  number  fourteen  Mansoursky  Pereoulak. 
While  the  career  of  Brusilov  since  the  Revolution  has  been  the 
theme  of  much  speculation,  and  of  many  absurd  articles  in 
the  foreign  press,  very  few  people  outside  of  Russia  have  any 
idea  as  to  what  he  has  been  doing.  People  who  followed  the 
war  news  on  the  Eastern  Front  remember  him  as  the  leader  of 
the  brilliant  Galician  offensive  in  1916,  which  annihilated  the 
Austrian  Army  on  that  front  and  made  active  assistance  to 
Germany  from  that  quarter  impossible.  With  the  exception  of 
the  few  advantages  gained  in  the  East  Prussian  campaign  at 
the  beginning  of  the  war  it  was  the  only  substantial  military 
success  achieved  by  the  Imperial  Army.  Much  of  the  territory 
acquired  during  Brusilov's  advance  was  lost  later,  owing  to 
lack  of  arms  and  ammunition  and  the  increasing  demoraliza- 
tion in  the  army.  Brusilov  himself  told  me  of  those  terrible 
days,  when  he  realized  that  the  army  was  going  to  pieces,  and 
sent  frantic  telegrams  to  the  War  Ministry  at  Petrograd,  asking 
for  the  help  that  never  came.  His  enemies  claim  that  he  was 
and  always  has  been  an  opportunist,  that  he  was  one  of  the 
Czar's  boot-licking  sycophants,  that  he  afterwards  curried 
favor  with  Kerensky  and  later  with  the  Bolsheviks,  and  it  is 
undoubtedly  true  that  he  is  despised  by  the  old  monarchists 
and  members  of  the  Cadet  party,  who  loathe  him  as  a  traitor. 
Some  day  he  intends  to  write  his  memoirs  in  justification  and 
explanation  of  his  conduct;  meanwhile  this  is  his  story  as  he 
told  it  to  me. 

He  had  always  been  inclined  to  sympathize  with  the  Cadets 


BOURJEOI  99 

who  supported  the  idea  of  a  constitutional  monarchy  in  Rus- 
sia, and  was  intimate  with  many  of  their  leaders  in  the  Douma, 
During  the  dark  days  at  the  end  of  191 6  he  became  convinced 
that  Russia  could  not  stay  in  the  war  under  the  utterly  inca- 
pable, weak  and  vaccillating  rule  of  Nicholas  II,  and  when  the 
March  Revolution  came,  actuated  solely  by  patriotism,  he 
offered  his  services  to  Kerensky.  He  remained  in  command 
of  the  Eighth  Army  until  shortly  before  the  October  Revolu- 
tion, when  he  was  removed  on  account  of  difference  of  opinion 
with  Kerensky,  who  was  yielding  to  the  demands  of  the 
French,  and  the  English  Ambassador,  Sir  George  Buchanan, 
to  keep  up  the  war  and  sending  mutinous,  unarmed,  half- 
naked  men  to  stop  the  Grerman  bullets. 

At  the  end  of  the  October  Revolution  he  was  living  quietly 
in  Moscow  and  was  wounded  by  a  bomb  dropped  by  an  aero- 
plane, which  fell  in  his  apartment.  He  was  taken  to  the  hos- 
pital at  the  Kremlin,  where  he  remained  for  several  months, 
after  which  he  was  placed  under  arrest  and  held  for  six 
months  in  the  Kremlin  prison,  being  treated,  however,  with 
every  consideration,  owing  to  his  weakened  condition.  Subse- 
quently he  was  allowed  to  return  to  his  home  but  was  kept 
under  house  arrest  until  the  late  autumn  of  19 19,  when  he 
agreed  to  accept  a  position  in  the  archives  office  of  the  Red 
Army  staff  to  supervise  the  compilation  of  a  history  of  Rus- 
sia's part  in  the  Great  War.  He  was  living  on  his  pay  of  three 
thousand  five  hundred  roubles  a  month,  supplemented  by  the 
Red  Army  ration  and  occasional  gifts  from  his  old  soldiers, 
many  of  whom  were  prosperous  peasants  living  near  Moscow, 
and  they  never  came  to  town  without  bringing  him  butter, 
honey,  milk,  or  sour  cream,  of  which  the  Russians  are  inordi- 
nately fond.  I  happened  to  be  dining  with  them  one  day  when 
they  had  received  such  a  windfall.  We  had  sorrel  soup  with 
sour  whipped  cream  floating  on  top,  kasha  with  butter,  black 
bread  and  tea  with  honey  instead  of  sugar. 

Brusilov's  attitude  towards  the  Soviet  Government  was 
frankly  antagonistic  as  far  as  the  principles  on  which  it  was 
based  were  concerned,  but  he  was  intensely  nationalistic  in 
feeling  and  violently  opposed  to  intervention. 


100  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

"We  got  ourselves  into  this  mess,"  he  often  said  to  me, 
"through  our  own  indifference  and  selfishness  and  corruption, 
and  our  utter  inability  to  read  the  signs  of  the  times.  It  is  up 
to  us  to  get  ourselves  out  of  it.  If  we  are  unable  to  do  this 
we  deserve  any  form  of  government  that  may  be  imposed 
upon  us." 

He  despised  the  emigrants  who  were  always  hatching  out- 
side plots,  safely  ensconced  in  London,  Berlin  or  Paris,  and 
when  the  Poles  began  their  offensive  he  wrote  the  famous 
letter  to  the  Commissariat  of  War  offering  his  services  to  the 
Government. 

He  was  made  chairman  of  an  advisory  commission  to  the 
General  Staff,  of  which  Polivanov,  former  Minister  of  War, 
and  General  Klembovski  were  also  members.  They  were 
never  trusted  by  the  Red  Army  General  Staff,  however,  and 
their  activities  were  confined  to  advising  measures  to  facilitate 
transportation  of  food  supplies  and  troop  movements  from  the 
reserve  bases  to  the  fighting  front.  They  also  received  and 
made  recommendations  on  thousands  of  letters  from  former 
Imperial  officers  who  were  in  internment  camps  offering  to 
serve  in  the  Red  Army  against  the  Poles.  General  Brusilov 
estimated,  at  the  beginning  of  the  Polish  offensive,  that  ap- 
proximately 100,000  former  officers  were  interned.  Most 
of  them  were  actuated  by  nationalistic  feeling,  but  there  were 
undoubtedly  numbers  who  hoped  by  this  means  to  bring 
about  a  counter-revolution.  Brusilov  himself  never  believed 
in  this  possibility,  and  I  know  for  a  fact  that  he  steadily  re- 
fused secret  offers  to  place  himself  at  the  head  of  such  a  move- 
ment. Something  of  the  sort  was  actually  organized,  culminat- 
ing in  the  late  summer  of  1920  in  the  arrest  of  an  entire  de- 
partment of  the  General  Staff  and  a  number  of  distinguished 
officers,  among  whom  was  General  Klembovski. 

While  not  trusting  Brusilov  to  the  extent  of  giving  him 
any  real  responsibility,  the  government  did  not  hesitate  to 
make  use  of  him  for  furthering  enlistment  propaganda  against 
the  Poles.  Despatches  stating  that  Brusilov  was  at  Kiev,  on 
the  Beresina,  or  at  the  Wrangel  front  were  published  in  the 
Isvestia  or  the  Pravda,  often  on  the  very  day  when  I  was 


BOURJEOI  101 

having  tea  with  him  and  his  wife  in  their  apartment  in  Mos- 
cow, and  we  used  to  laugh  about  it  together.  "Actually,"  he 
said,  "I  probably  know  less  about  the  situation  on  the  front 
than  you  do,  for  you  hear  the  gossip  at  the  Foreign  Office." 

Madame  Brusilov,  who  had  a  sister  in  America,  Mrs. 
Vera  Johnston  of  Brooklyn,  and  who  was  a  niece  of  Mme. 
Blavatsky,  enjoyed  hearing  my  accounts  of  life  in  America, 
and  I  spent  many  happy  hours  at  their  house.  I  was  also  an 
intimate  friend  of  the  wife  of  their  only  son,  a  young  officer 
who  had  joined  the  Red  Army  and  who  disappeared  on  the 
Denikin  front  in  the  summer  of  1919.  They  had  never  heard 
a  word  as  to  his  fate.  The  Red  Army  authorities  simply  re- 
ported him  as  missing,  but  there  were  many  rumors  with  re- 
gard to  his  disappearance.  Some  people  asserted  that  he  had 
attempted  to  pass  over  to  the  Whites  and  had  been  killed  by 
the  Bolsheviks,  others  that  he  had  been  taken  prisoner  and 
executed  by  Denikin,  still  others  that  he  was  fighting  with 
Wrangel  under  an  assumed  name.  Young  Mme.  Brusilov  was 
herself  employed  in  the  War  Department  and  managed  to  live 
very  comfortably,  supplementing  her  rations  by  selling  the 
many  beautiful  things  she  had  inherited  from  her  grandmother, 
who  belonged  to  one  of  the  oldest  and  richest  families  in  Mos- 
cow. She  kept  an  apartment  of  two  rooms,  kitchenette  and 
bath  in  what  was  formerly  her  grandmother's  home,  part  of 
the  house  being  used  by  a  section  of  the  Commissariat  of  War 
and  the  remaining  rooms  occupied  by  M,  Ugrimov,  a  distin- 
guished Russian  engineer  and  an  old  friend  of  the  family. 

She  very  often  gave  informal  parties,  at  which  there  were 
wives  of  former  generals,  professors  and  army  men.  Many 
of  her  friends  were  in  prison  and  she  spent  much  of  her  time 
taking  food  packages  to  the  Checka,  the  Butierki,  and  other 
prisons.  One  of  them  was  Professor  Yakovlev  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Petrograd,  who  had  been  condemned  to  death  in 
connection  with  a  counter-revolutionary  plot  at  the  time  of 
the  Yudenitch  offensive,  but  had  not  been  executed  owing  to 
the  fact  that  he  was  desperately  ill  with  a  heart  affection. 
His  wife,  whom  I  often  saw  at  the  house  of  Madame  Brusilov, 
was  arrested  late  in  the  summer  because  she  lived  with  Mme. 


102  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

Rodzianko,  whose  husband  was,  and  still  is,  very  active  in 
fomenting  counter-revolutionary  plots  in  Poland  against  the 
Bolsheviks.  Mme.  Brusilov's  uncle,  Professor  Kotlerevsky 
of  the  University  of  Moscow,  was  arrested  later  and  placed  on 
trial  for  his  life  in  connection  with  the  activities  of  the  so- 
called  Tactical  Center,  a  nonpartisan  organization  which  had 
for  its  avowed  object  the  fight  for  free  speech,  free  press  and 
free  party  activity  in  Russia. 

I  attended  the  trial,  which  was  most  dramatic,  with  Mme. 
Brusilov.  It  was  held  in  the  amphitheater  of  the  Moscow 
Polytechnic  School  and  the  public  was  admitted.  It  lasted 
for  four  days.  The  three  judges  sat  at  a  plain  deal  table 
covered  with  red  bunting  on  the  stage  facing  the  audience. 
The  accused,  twenty-eight  in  number,  were  placed  in  the  space 
usually  occupied  by  the  orchestra  at  theatrical  performances, 
separated  from  the  audience  by  two  rows  of  vacant  seats  which 
had  been  roped  off  and  were  guarded  by  a  detachment  of  the 
militiamen  of  the  Extraordinary  Commission.  The  public 
prosecutor,  Krilienko,  a  brilliant  speaker,  was  also  one  of  the 
judges,  which  seemed  to  me  a  most  unfair  arrangement.  Each 
prisoner  was  allowed  to  make  a  speech  in  his  own  defense, 
and  they  were  represented  by  M.  Mouraviev,  head  of  the 
Political  Red  Cross,  a  former  well-known  lawyer  in  Moscow. 

Among  them  were  many  notable  persons,  including  Chep- 
kin,  a  well-known  leader  of  the  Cadet  party,  whose  brother 
served  on  the  recently  formed  and  almost  as  promptly  dis- 
solved Russian  Famine  Relief  Committee;  Prince  Ourosov,  at 
whose  house,  as  nearly  as  I  can  recollect,  the  murder  of  Lenin 
was  attempted,  and  Alexandra  Lvovna  Tolstoi,  youngest 
daughter  of  the  great  novelist.  Professor  Kotlerevski,  who 
was  intensely  nervous  throughout  the  trial,  broke  down  under 
the  grilling  of  Krilienko  and  made  a  full  confession.  He  was 
sentenced  to  three  years'  internment,  but  was  released  on 
parole  immediately  after  the  trial. 

Alexandra  Lvovna  Tolstoi  made  a  brilliant  speech  in  her 
own  defense,  stating  that  she  had  joined  the  movement  not  as 
a  counter-revolutionary  but  as  a  believer  in  her  father's  doc- 
trine of  pacifism.     She  opposed  the  Soviet  Government  on 


BOURJEOI  103 

these  grounds,  and  also  as  an  individualist,  in  favor  of  ma- 
jority rule  and  against  the  dictatorship  of  any  minority.  She 
then  added,  with  a  fine  gesture,  that  they  might  do  what  they 
pleased  with  her  body,  that  she  would  always  be  free  morally 
and  spiritually,  no  matter  how  long  she  might  be  kept  in  prison. 

One  of  the  other  prisoners,  a  man  named  Morosov,  in  his 
defense  expressed  the  opinion  of  a  number  of  the  intellectuals 
who  have  remained  in  Russia  throughout  the  Revolution.  He 
said  that  unfortunately  he  had  spent  most  of  his  time  in  prison 
since  the  Revolution  and  was  therefore  not  able  to  carry  out 
his  intentions,  but  that  if  released  he  would  be  willing  to  de- 
vote his  energies  to  working  with,  though  not  for,  the  Soviet 
Government  out  of  love  for  Russia,  because  he  realized  that 
cooperation  with  the  existing  administration  was  the  only 
way  to  prevent  the  utter  collapse  of  Russia's  economic  and  in- 
dustrial system,  and  untold  misery  to  the  Russian  people. 
There  are  thousands  of  nonpartisan  workers  in  every  depart- 
ment of  the  Soviet  administration  today  who  share  the  same 
views.  They  admit  that  the  political  domination  of  the  Com- 
munist party  is  absolute  and  complete,  but  they  foresee  an 
eventual  political  change  following  the  inevitable  economic 
breakdown. 

They  believe  that  they  can  best  serve  their  country  by 
keeping  the  work  of  the  various  governmental  departments 
going,  so  that  when  the  change  comes  there  will  not  be  utter 
demoralization  and  anarchy.  All  public  improvements  which 
are  possible  under  the  present  regime,  all  schemes  such  as  the 
electrification  of  the  villages,  reconstruction  of  railroads  and 
bridges,  installation  of  new  power  plants  and  factories,  new 
and  scientific  methods  in  the  departments  of  public  health, 
agriculture  and  education,  are  being  carried  on  principally 
by  these  men.  They  regard  it  as  no  disloyalty  to  do  this,  be- 
lieving that  they  can  be  of  more  use  to  their  country  at  the 
present  time  by  doing  such  work  than  by  engaging  in  useless 
counter-revolutionary  activities. 

Although  an  attempt  was  made  to  prove  that  the  Tactical 
Center  was  counter-revolutionary,  it  served  merely  for  the 
interchange  of  ideas  between  men  and  women  of  this  type, 


104  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

and  the  government  was,  I  believe,  fully  aware  of  this  fact, 
but  it  suited  the  purpose  of  the  Checka  at  the  time  to  hold  a 
trial  and  make  an  apparently  generous  gesture  by  releasing  all 
the  prisoners,  knowing  all  the  while  that  it  was  perfectly  safe 
to  do  so.  If  they  had  been  really  dangerous  conspirators  they 
would  have  had  short  shrift  and  a  secret  trial.  The  maximum 
sentence  imposed  was  ten  years  in  an  internment  camp  for  the 
four  alleged  leaders,  and  all  were  released  on  parole  within  a 
short  time. 

I  had  met  Alexandra  Lvovna  Tolstoi  before  her  arrest  at 
the  home  of  Vladimir  Tchertkov,  a  charming  old  gentleman, 
who  was  a  close  friend  of  Count  Tolstoi,  who  had  made  him 
his  literary  executor.  A  family  quarrel  had  arisen  over  this 
matter.  Count  Ilya  Tolstoi,  the  eldest  son,  and  his  other  chil- 
dren maintaining  that  Tchertkov  had  no  right  to  renunciation 
of  all  rights  of  publication  of  Tolstoi's  works  and  the  royalties 
therefrom,  which  Tchertkov  had  made  in  accordance  with  the 
wishes  of  his  friend.  Tchertkov  is  today  the  leader  of  the 
remnant  of  Tolstoians  in  Russia,  and  the  head  of  a  nonsecta- 
rian  league,  composed  of  various  denominations,  all  of  whom 
are  pacifists. 

They  had  until  recently  an  office  on  the  Pokrovka  in  Mos- 
cow and  were  left  undisturbed  until  they  became  active  in 
supporting  conscientious  objectors  to  army  service,  of  whom 
there  are  a  considerable  number  in  Russia.  For  a  time 
Tchertkov  acted  as  head  of  an  advisory  board  to  the  General 
Staff  to  pass  on  such  cases,  for  the  Soviet  Government  recog- 
nizes the  validity  of  the  claims  of  conscientious  objectors  if 
based  on  the  tenets  of  the  religious  sect  to  which  they  belong; 
but  Tchertkov  wished  to  push  the  matter  further  and  secure 
the  recognition  of  cases  of  individual  objectors.  He  had  many 
tilts  with  the  War  Office  over  this  matter,  but  his  age  and  his 
friendship  with  Tolstoi,  for  whose  memory  even  the  Com- 
munists have  considerable  veneration,  secured  him  immunity. 

He  and  his  wife  were  desperately  poor,  for  they  lived  on 
the  utterly  inadequate  ration  given  to  persons  over  the  legal 
working  age,  and  I  really  believe  that  they  would  have  starved 
to  death  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  gifts  of  the  peasants  from 


BOURJEOI  105 

Tolstoi's  estate  near  Colomna,  about  sixty  versts  from  Moscow, 
who  came  all  the  way  on  foot  to  bring  them  enough  food  to 
keep  them  aHve.  Tchertkov  was  constantly  working  on  some 
Utopian  scheme  or  other,  and  he  managed  to  publish  some 
pacifist  brochures,  which  he  distributed  among  the  militia  and 
members  of  the  Moscow  garrison.  He  was  always  running 
about  Moscow  on  some  such  errand,  and  was  also  working  on 
a  new  and  revised  edition  of  Tolstoi's  works  to  be  published 
by  the  Commissariat  of  Education.  At  his  house  I  renewed 
my  acquaintance  with  Paul  Birukov,  Tolstoi's  biographer, 
whom  I  had  known  in  Switzerland.  He  and  his  wife  and  son 
returned  to  Moscow  during  the  summer  and  the  son  became 
a  Communist,  but  Birukov,  like  many  another  old  revolu- 
tionary, was  bitterly  disappointed  in  the  Revolution. 


CHAPTER  XI 
UNDER  SUSPICION 

My  first  arrest,  which  occurred  on  Good  Friday,  April  4th, 
was  not,  I  must  confess,  entirely  unexpected.  At  this  time  the 
political  situation,  which  had  been  much  improved  when  I  first 
arrived,  was  growing  more  unstable  day  by  day.  It  had  been 
confidently  expected  that  the  secret  armistice  with  Poland 
would  develop  into  a  formal  cessation  of  hostilities,  followed 
by  peace  negotiations.  The  death  penalty  was  abolished;  ar- 
rests by  the  Checka  had  been  much  less  frequent,  people 
thought  less  about  plots  and  spies,  and  more  about  reconstruc- 
tion. Denikin  was  defeated,  the  Seventh  Army,  the  Third 
Army  and  many  other  individual  army  units  had  been  turned 
into  working  battalions.  The  papers  published  despatches 
every  day  from  the  "bloodless  front";  there  was  much  talk 
of  the  rebuilding  of  industry,  public  improvements,  and  the 
Russians  were  just  beginning  to  breathe  more  freely  and  react 
from  war  psychosis.  The  underground  organization  of  the 
Right  and  Left  Social  Revolutionaries  was  beginning  to  func- 
tion, the  Mensheviks  were  seeking  more  recognition  for  the 
trades  unions  and  a  modification  of  Communist  tactics,  when 
it  became  evident  that  the  Poles,  backed  by  France,  were  about 
to  start  an  offensive.  Repressive  measures  were  immediately 
taken,  the  attitude  of  the  government  towards  its  political  op- 
ponents became  more  severe,  arrests  of  all  persons  who  had  re- 
cently arrived  from  Poland  began,  and  I  was  one  of  them. 

In  addition,  I  had  committed  many  imprudences.  In  the 
first  place,  I  had  associated  openly  with  people  who  were 
known  to  be  hostile  to  the  Soviet  Government.  I  had  rendered 
myself  absolutely  independent  of  the  Foreign  Office  and  its 
interpreters,  I  had  changed  foreign  money  illegally  to  get 
the  advantage  of  the  higher  rate  of  exchange,  I  had  attended 
the  Communist  party  conference  where  I  had  no  earthly  right 

J06 


UNDER  SUSPICION  107 

to  be,  and  had  gone  with  Mr.  McCullagh  to  the  secret  exhibi- 
tion of  the  Rosta  in  the  Kremlin  which  was  meant  only  for 
delegates  to  the  conference.  For  some  time  I  had  been  given 
suspicious  freedom  of  movement  and  I  had  several  times 
felt  that  the  Checka  was  only  giving  me  rope  to  hang  myself. 

About  a  week  before  my  arrest  and  that  of  Mr,  McCullagh, 
which  took  place  on  the  same  night,  Dr.  Karlin,  he  and  I  were 
moved  from  our  comfortable  quarters  in  the  Horitonevski  on 
the  pretense  that  it  was  to  be  used  by  the  English  Labor  dele- 
gation, not  due  until  June,  to  the  Savoy,  also  a  government 
guest  house.  The  Savoy,  which  was  formerly  one  of  the 
largest  hotels  in  Moscow,  was  a  place  where  arrests  were  fre- 
quently made  and  it  contained  a  number  of  strange  foreign 
guests,  many  of  them  like  ourselves  under  suspicion.  An 
arrest  in  a  large  place  like  the  Savoy  is  apt  to  pass  unnoticed 
and  causes  less  comment  than  in  a  small  place  like  the  Hori- 
tonevski. We  rather  suspected  something  was  wrong  when 
we  went  there,  but  at  first  it  was  rather  amusing. 

My  room  was  large  and  cheerful,  well  heated,  but  in  a 
shocking  state  of  disrepair;  there  was  a  comfortable  mattress, 
but  no  sheets  on  the  bed,  which  was  infested  with  hosts  of 
insect  pests,  against  whom  boiling  water  and  kerosene  were 
powerless.  The  plumbing  was  out  of  order  and  there  were 
no  bathing  facilities.  Nevertheless  I  was  so  much  diverted 
by  the  strange  conglomerate  company  among  which  I  found 
myself  at  meal  times  in  the  dining  room,  where  our  fare  was 
very  similar  to  that  in  our  former  quarters,  that  I  forgot  to 
fuss  over  the  increased  discomfort  or  trouble  my  head  over  the 
suspicious  circumstances  of  our  transfer. 

The  Savoy  was  very  convenient,  being  close  to  the  Foreign 
Office,  and  I  did  not  have  the  long  half -hour  walk  home  in  the 
wee  small  hours,  which  was  rather  pleasant. 

One  night  I  had  stayed  there  very  late  as  usual,  and  was 
crossing  the  broad  theater  Boulevard  between  the  Metropole 
and  the  Rozhestvenka  where  the  Savoy  was  located,  when  a 
soldier  stepped  up  to  me  and  asked  very  politely: 

"Vasha  familiaf — your  name?" 

"Garrison,"  I  answered,  that  being  the  name  by  which  I 


108  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

was  known  in  Russia  as  the  Russian  language  has  no  letter 

"h." 

"Your  Christian  name?"  he  continued. 

"Marguerita  Bernardnova,"  I  answered. 

"You're  arrested,"  he  announced  cheerfully,  much  in  the 
same  way  he  would  have  told  me  I  was  taking  the  wrong  turn 
in  the  street  had  he  been  a  London  bobby  instead  of  a  Moscow 
Checkist.  I  accompanied  him  to  the  office  of  the  secret  section 
of  the  Checka  at  Lubianka  2,  where  I  was  placed  in  solitary 
confinement  and  put  through  two  rigid  cross-examinations  dur- 
ing which  I  was  grilled  about  my  friends  in  Moscow,  my  Polish 
connections  and  various  other  matters. 

Meanwhile  Dr.  Karlin  and  Mr.  McCullagh  had  been  ar- 
rested at  the  Savoy.  My  room  had  been  searched  and  all  my 
baggage  and  papers  seized.  I  will  not  enter  into  my  experi- 
ences during  my  first  sojourn  in  the  Checka,  as  I  shall  describe 
conditions  at  the  Lubianka  more  fully  when  I  tell  of  my  second 
arrest.  The  upshot  of  it  all  was  that  as  I  had  taken  no  part  in 
any  party  activities  or  plots  against  the  Soviet  Government, 
and  convinced  the  prassidium  that  I  was  not  a  Polish  spy,  I  was 
released  after  being  detained  for  forty-eight  hours,  allowed 
to  return  to  the  Savoy  and  given  back  all  my  baggage  and  my 
typewriter.  I  was  told  that  I  would  be  free  to  pursue  my  work, 
but  that  permission  to  leave  the  country  could  not  be  given  me 
for  any  definite  period,  certainly  not  until  the  Polish  situation 
cleared  up.  This  was  a  measure  of  ordinary  prudence  under 
the  circumstances,  for  had  I  so  chosen,  if  permitted  to  leave  the 
country,  I  could  have  undoubtedly  furnished  valuable  infor- 
mation to  the  Polish  Government. 

I  promised  at  that  time  to  avoid  certain  places  and  people 
and  to  do  certain  things.  These  promises,  candidly,  I  could 
not  and  did  not  keep.  This  furnished  full  justification  for  my 
arrest  six  months  later.  I  never  had  any  personal  feeling 
against  the  Checka  or  the  Soviet  Government  for  their  action 
with  regard  to  me.  Beset  as  they  were  at  that  time  by  enemies 
on  all  sides  within  and  without,  it  was  quite  natural  to  anyone 
who  understood  their  methods  and  psychology.  Many  other 
foreigners  who  had  come  to  Moscow  with  the  full  permission 


UNDER  SUSPICION  109 

of  the  Soviet  Government  were  arrested  on  much  more  trivial 
charges. 

The  day  after  my  own  release  I  was  rejoined  by  Mr.  Mc- 
Cullagh,  whose  real  identity  had  not  been  discovered  by  the 
Checka.  I  first  met  him  in  March  when  he  arrived  from 
Siberia  with  a  safe  conduct  from  Jansen,  Soviet  Commissar 
at  Omsk.  He  had  convinced  them  that  he  was  merely  a  harm- 
less newspaper  man  of  unpractical,  dreamy  tendencies  with  a 
proclivity  for  getting  himself  innocently  into  awkward  situ- 
ations. A  mass  of  notes,  distinctly  unfavorable  to  the  Kol- 
chak  regime,  w^hich  he  had  made  during  his  trip  across  Siberia, 
helped  to  bolster  up  his  case,  and  he  was  hoping  to  make  a 
quick  getaway  under  the  pretext  that  it  was  very  important  for 
him  to  get  his  book  on  Kolchak  out  as  soon  as  possible.  He 
also  had  an  enormous  amount  of  interesting  matter  with  regard 
to  the  murder  of  the  Czar  and  the  Imperial  family  at  Ekater- 
inenbourg,  all  of  which,  like  many  other  data,  he  had  not  writ- 
ten down  fully  in  his  notes.  An  English  echelon  of  civilians 
and  prisoners  of  war  released  under  the  Litvinov-O'Grady  ar- 
rangement was  leaving  very  shortly,  and  he  planned  to  leave  at 
the  same  time. 

With  this  end  in  view,  he  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  the 
home  of  the  Reverend  Frank  North,  the  Anglican  clergyman 
at  Moscow  who  had  been  unofficially  in  charge  of  the  interests 
of  British  citizens,  and  of  British  Red  Cross  work  for  political 
prisoners  and  prisoners  of  war,  since  the  rupture  of  relations 
between  Great  Britain  and  Russia  in  the  latter  part  of  1918. 

With  only  a  few  supplies  from  England  he  managed  to 
look  after  all  the  English  prisoners  and  a  number  of  dependent 
civilians,  collecting  large  sums  to  purchase  food  in  Moscow  by 
the  following  method :  He  took  from  English  and  Russian 
subjects  Soviet  or  Czar  or  Kerensky  roubles,  giving  them 
receipts  payable  in  sterling  at  the  Bank  of  England  at  a  fixed 
rate  of  exchange.  The  Russians  took  chances  on  hiding 
these  receipts  and  smuggling  them  out  of  the  country.  Some 
of  those  who  did  business  with  Mr.  North  in  this  manner 
were  caught  and  paid  the  penalty  in  terms  of  imprisonmef^-, 
but  the  majority  escaped,  and  I  know  of  several  instances  Vn 


110  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

which  very  considerable  sums  were  transferred  to  safety  in  this 
manner.  The  Britishers  at  first  hid  their  receipts  also  and  took 
them  out  of  the  country,  but  at  the  time  of  the  departure 
of  the  last  two  echelons,  searches  were  growing-  more  strict, 
and  Mr.  North  advised  them  to  remember  the  amounts  and 
destroy  them,  promising  to  furnish  them  with  duphcates  as 
soon  as  the  Finnish  frontier  was  crossed.  The  officers  of 
General  Knox's  Siberian  Mission  who  were  captured  at  Omsk, 
whom  Mr.  North  kept  well  supplied  with  comforts  and  even 
luxuries,  were  in  the  Andronovski  prison  camp. 

They  were  allowed  a  considerable  amount  of  freedom,  sev- 
eral of  them  coming  in  every  Sunday  to  service  at  the  British 
church.  One  afternoon,  by  invitation,  with  the  permission  of 
the  Foreign  Office,  I  went  to  tea  with  the  officers  in  the  camp. 
The  Andronovski,  which  was  formerly  a  monastery,  is  the 
place  where  many  of  the  American  prisoners  were  confined.  It 
is  a  picturesque  agglomeration  of  buildings  on  a  high  hill  on 
the  right  bank  of  the  Moskva  river,  which  divides  the  city  into 
two  parts.  Around  the  enclosure  runs  a  high  white  wall,  for 
all  monasteries  were  built  in  a  semi-fortified  manner,  at  first 
to  protect  them  against  the  ever  present  menace  of  Tartar  and 
Polish  invasions,  later  to  guard  them  and  their  treasures 
against  internal  disturbances.  Inside  there  are  large  grounds 
with  old  fruit  trees  and  the  remains  of  flower  and  vegetable 
gardens.  In  the  center  court  where  the  prisoners  take  their 
exercise  are  the  tombs  of  the  former  monks  with  their  ornate 
iron  crosses.  Entrance  to  the  court  is  through  an  imposing 
gateway  with  beautiful  wrought  iron  gates,  crowned  by  a 
tall  bell  tower.  On  the  right  is  the  church,  on  the  left  what 
was  formerly  the  residence  of  the  Abbot,  now  the  office  of  the 
Commandant. 

We  presented  our  permits  at  the  wicket,  and  were  shown 
into  the  courtyard  by  the  Red  soldier  on  guard.  The  officers' 
quarters  were  in  a  long  building  on  the  left  side  of  the  court 
which  had  served  as  living  quarters  for  the  monks.  Their 
beds  were  in  a  spacious  dormitory  on  the  second  floor.  They 
had  their  own  stove,  for  which  they  cut  the  wood  themselves, 
and  they  did  their  own  cooking.     Adjoining  the  dormitory  was 


UNDER  SUSPICION  111 

a  large  recreation  room  where  there  was  a  piano.  On  Sunday 
afternoons  they  were  allowed  to  receive  visitors,  and  many 
Russian  girls  as  well  as  members  of  the  English  colony  used 
to  gather  there  for  informal  tea  parties.  I  was  allowed  to  talk 
to  the  officers  quite  freely,  though  always  in  the  presence  of  the 
representative  of  the  Foreign  Office  who  accompanied  us,  and  I 
was  given  good  English  tea  with  white  bread  and  buttef  and 
English  cigarettes.  The  officers  told  me  that,  all  things 
considered,  they  were  very  comfortable. 

Once  a  week  they  were  taken  in  a  big  motor  lorry  to  the 
opera  or  the  theater,  and  they  were  frequently  permitted  to 
go  into  Moscow  with  an  escort  in  groups  of  twos  or  threes 
to  do  their  shopping  or  to  visit  Mr.  North  at  the  Rectory. 
They  were  not  supposed  to  visit  their  friends  in  private  fami- 
lies, but  as  a  matter  of  fact  they  often  did  so,  and  stayed  to 
supper  if  they  happened  to  have  an  obliging  guard.  The  other 
prisoners  in  the  Andronovski,  political  prisoners  and  hostages, 
among  whom  were  a  number  of  Hungarian  officers,  were  not 
allowed  as  much  liberty  as  the  British  officers  and  occupied 
different  quarters.  At  that  time  there  were  two  Americans 
there.  Dr.  Lambie,  a  well-known  Moscow  dentist,  who  had 
lived  in  Russia  for  nearly  thirty  years,  and  Alfred  Hipman, 
formerly  doorkeeper  at  the  American  Consulate.  They  de- 
clared that  they  were  held  as  hostages ;  the  Bolshevik  authori- 
ties insinuated  that  they  were  held  for  speculation.  No  charges 
were  ever  preferred  against  them,  however,  and  after  three 
months  both  were  released. 

I  was  also  once  invited  to  meet  the  British  officers  at  the 
opera  where  they  occupied  the  former  Imperial  box.  Before 
the  departure  of  the  English  echelons  I  spent  much  time  at  the 
rectory,  doing  typewriting  for  Mr.  North,  making  out  receipts 
for  the  money  he  had  received  from  private  individuals,  and 
lists  of  the  passengers.  After  many  delays  the  last  train 
finally  left  early  in  May.  Mr.  North  and  his  wife,  before 
leaving,  were  subjected  to  a  rather  disagreeable  ordeal  in 
which  they  were  compelled  to  appear  several  times  before  the 
Checka,  on  the  charge  that  he  had  handled  some  of  the  money 
alleged  to  have  been  spent  in  counter-revolutionary  activities 


112  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

by  Paul  Dukes,  but  he  always  claimed  that  he  had  no  knowl- 
edge whatever  of  the  uses  to  which  these  funds  were  to  be  put. 
The  Checka,  however,  was  very  anxious  to  discredit  Mr.  North, 
and  being  unable  to  get  anything  incriminating  from  him,  pub- 
lished an  alleged  confession  of  Mrs.  North,  in  which  she  was 
said  to  have  revealed  her  husband's  connection  with  Dukes. 
They  were  satisfied  with  instituting  a  civil  suit  against  Mr. 
North,  and  allowed  him  to  leave  the  country  before  the  case 
came  to  trial.  The  English  Rectory  was  taken  over  by  the 
Foreign  Office  and  subsequently  assigned  to  the  Danish  Red 
Cross. 

Dr.  Karlin  was  detained  for  about  a  week  after  which  she 
spent  a  short  time  with  me  at  the  Savoy  and  then,  having 
secured  an  appointment  as  a  Red  Army  physician  once  more, 
she  left  for  the  Polish  front  and  I  never  saw  her  again.  I  re- 
mained at  the  Savoy  for  several  weeks  and  took  up  my  old 
life  just  the  same  as  ever.  An  indefinite  stay  in  Russia  was 
opening  before  me,  but  I  was  determined  to  make  the  best  of 
it  and  accept  the  inevitable.  Besides  life  was  intensely  interest- 
ing and  by  no  means  devoid  of  excitement  and  amusement. 

The  official  host  at  the  Savoy  was  an  employee  of  the 
Foreign  Office,  Sabanyin  by  name,  a  man  of  very  good  family, 
who  had  formerly  been  in  the  Czar's  diplomatic  service.  Other 
employees  of  the  Foreign  Office  who  lived  there  were  a  Soviet 
courier,  who  made  the  trip  several  times  a  month  from  Moscow 
to  Murmansk,  and  Dmitri  Florinsky,  a  Russian  of  cosmopoli- 
tan experience,  who  had  been  at  one  time  in  the  office  of  the 
Russian  Vice  Consul  in  New  York  and  had  many  friends  in 
America.  His  father,  a  Ukrainian  nobleman,  had  been  shot  at 
Kiev  at  the  beginning  of  the  revolution.  While  spiritually 
converted  to  Communism,  so  he  averred,  Florinsky  was  in  ap- 
pearance a  typical  boulevardier.  He  was  always  dressed  in  the 
pink  of  perfection,  with  matching  ties,  handkerchiefs  and 
socks;  his  life  was  miserable  until  he  discovered  a  Chinese 
laundry  where  he  could  have  his  collars  done  at  three  hundred 
roubles  apiece.  He  was  very  fond  of  a  hand  of  bridge  or  a 
good  game  of  poker,  and  he  never  got  up  until  eleven  or  twelve 
in  the  morning.    Then  there  were  a  solemn  Czech  Communist 


UNDER  SUSPICION  113 

who  was  writing  a  book  on  Soviet  Russia,  several  Swedish 
business  men,  a  German  working  men's  delegation,  Dr.  Barra- 
katula,  a  well-known  Hindu  professor,  who  later  departed  on 
a  mysterious  mission  in  the  direction  of  Boukhara  and  Khiva, 
where  a  revolution  shortly  after  occurred ;  a  Hindu  nationalist, 
Dr.  Mansur,  whom  strangely  enough  I  had  seen  and  heard  speak 
at  a  meeting  in  Berlin  during  the  previous  year,  and  a  former 
Austrian  general  staff  officer,  Meyerhoeffer,  who  was  in 
Russia  to  negotiate  an  agreement  for  the  repatriation  of  Aus- 
trian prisoners  of  war.  There  was  also  a  mysterious  Russian 
gentleman  who  said  very  little  but  looked  and  listened  a  lot. 
I  afterwards  made  his  acquaintance  in  the  Checka. 

Some  weeks  later  I  got  back  my  room  at  the  Horitonevski. 
There  I  found  several  new  guests,  among  them  Dr.  Alfons 
Goldschmidt,  a  German  publicist,  who  was  compiling  a  book 
on  trades  unions  in  Russia;  and  a  Japanese  journaHst,  Fusi 
of  the  Osaka  Mainichi,  who  had  come  to  Moscow  with  per- 
mission of  the  Soviet  Government  but  was  regarded  with  grave 
suspicion  on  account  of  the  fact  that  he  had,  before  the  Revo- 
lution, been  attached  to  the  Japanese  embassy  in  Petrograd  as 
an  Intelligence  Officer.  He  was  placed  under  house  arrest  only, 
thanks  to  the  intervention  of  the  Foreign  Office,  which  is  not 
always  able  to  protect  its  guests  against  the  Checka.  Fusi 
was  occasionally  allowed  to  go  out  with  an  escort,  but  almost 
all  of  his  information  was  based  on  what  he  read  in  the  papers. 
Apropos  of  the  news  furnished  by  the  Soviet  papers  the  Bol- 
sheviks themselves  have  a  saying  which  I  often  heard  repeated 
with  great  gusto.  The  two  leading  papers  in  Moscow  are  the 
Isvestia,  which  means  "news,"  and  the  Pravda\,  meaning 
"truth."  The  saying  is,  "There  is  no  news  in  the  truth,  and 
no  truth  in  the  news." 

At  this  time  the  situation  in  the  Near  East  was  very  inter- 
esting. Georgia  and  Azerbazjan  had  gone  Red;  the  nation- 
alist movements  in  Anatolia  and  Northern  Persia  were  well 
under  way;  the  Siberian  Far  Eastern  Republic  had  just  en- 
tered into  existence ;  a  Pan-Mohammedan  Congress  was  being 
held  at  the  Foreign  Office.  The  proceedings  of  this  Congress 
were  shrouded  in  mystery,  but  they  concerned  the  vast  Asiatic 


114  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

nationalist  conspiracy,  sponsored  by  the  Bolsheviks,  of  which 
I  saw  many  evidences  during  my  stay  in  Russia. 

Consequently  I  was  often  obliged  to  go  to  the  Eastern 
Section  of  the  Foreign  Office  for  news  and  information.  When 
I  first  arrived  in  Moscow  it  was  in  charge  of  a  Left  Social 
Revolutionary,  named  Vosnesyensky.  He  was  an  experienced 
diplomatist,  trained  under  Nicholas  II,  and  had  spent  most  of 
his  time  when  not  in  prison  for  his  revolutionary  activities, 
in  diplomatic  posts  in  India,  China  and  Japan.  He  spoke 
four  or  five  Eastern  languages  and  several  dialects  fluently; 
there  was  even  something  oriental  about  his  mask-like  impas- 
sive face  with  its  parchment  skin,  and  high  domed  forehead 
and  deepset  grey  eyes.  He  was  always  at  loggerheads  with 
the  government  but  Chicherin  employed  him  because  he  could 
not  find  anyone  who  was  as  well  fitted  for  the  position. 

Vosnesyensky  dreamed  of  a  Soviet  imperialism  that  would 
make  Russia  mistress  of  all  Asia.  He  had  a  propaganda  map, 
which  he  once  let  me  see  in  which  centers  of  Bolshevik  agita- 
tion were  marked  with  little  red  circles.  They  extended  all 
over  Asia  and  there  were  even  several  of  them  in  the  Philip- 
pines. Under  his  supervision  men  were  trained  and  sent  out  to 
each  of  these  countries,  and  he  supervised  the  publication  of  an 
immense  amount  of  propaganda  literature  in  every  oriental 
language.  Vosnesyensky  was  frankly  a  militarist.  He  be- 
lieved in  taking  the  offensive  against  Japan  and  backing  open 
revolt  of  the  nationalists  in  Persia,  India  and  Asia  Minor; 
he  favored  supporting  the  southern  Chinese  government,  and 
stimulating  a  revolution  in  Korea. 

"If  my  plans  are  followed,"  he  said  to  me  once,  "within  a 
year  all  Asia  will  be  aflame."  They  were  not  followed,  how- 
ever. The  policy  of  Chicherin  was  too  subtle  and  opportunistic 
for  Vosnesyensky;  he  failed  to  take  the  economic  situation  of 
Russia  into  account  in  his  calculations.  Finally  he  got  himself 
so  hopelessly  embroiled  with  the  Foreign  Office  that  he  was 
threatened  with  arrest  but  was  eventually  allowed  to  resign  and 
retire  to  the  country  where  he  was  living  with  his  wife  at 
the  time  of  my  second  arrest.  Like  many  other  Soviet  intran- 
sigeants,  I  lirinly  believe  that  Vosnesyensky  was  an  unconscious 


UNDER  SUSPICION  115 

nationalist;  his  aim  was  to  see  the  Slav  and  Slav  influence  pre- 
dominant in  Europe  and  in  Asia. 

It  was  in  Vosnesyensky's  office  that  I  met  Krasnoschokov, 
the  head  of  the  Far  Eastern  Republic.  Krasnoschokov  was 
quite  well  known  in  America.  He  lived  for  many  years  in 
Chicago  under  the  name  of  Tobelson,  where  he  was  the  head 
of  a  Jewish  orphan  asylum  and  I  believe  practiced  law  as 
well.  He  was  a  man  of  extremely  liberal  views,  recognizing 
the  fact  that  a  coalition  government  in  Siberia  was  absolutely 
necessary,  and  he  fought  the  matter  out  successfully  with  Mos- 
cow. Krasnoschokov  is  a  man  in  the  late  forties,  a  Jew  of 
the  blond  type,  smooth-shaven,  with  a  firm,  square  jaw  and 
keen  grey  eyes.  Naturally  he  speaks  English  very  well.  He 
believed  it  would  be  a  long  time  before  the  majority  of  the 
population  in  Siberia  would  come  to  accept  a  Soviet  Govern- 
ment based  on  strictly  Communistic  principles,  and  considered 
that  it  was  wiser  to  first  build  up  the  resources  of  the  country 
under  a  modified  capitalistic  system. 

Personally  I  believe  that  Krasnoschokov  is  an  extremely 
good  politician  and  something  of  an  opportunist.  He  will 
steer  a  middle  course  in  Siberia  as  long  as  he  can,  then  swing 
to  the  right  or  left,  according  to  the  state  of  the  political 
barometer. 

The  Commissar  from  Omsk  who  succeeded  Vosnesyensky 
as  head  of  the  Eastern  Section  of  the  Foreign  Office  was  a  very 
liberal  man  and  he  was  responsible  for  safe  conducts  issued 
to  many  Americans  and  Englishmen  who  later  arrived  in 
Moscow  with  his  permission  and  were  decidedly  unwelcome 
guests  of  the  Soviet  Government. 

Occasionally  I  had  fantastic  experiences  w^hich  gave  me 
queer  glimpses  into  the  underworld  of  intrigue  and  propa- 
ganda in  Moscow.  Once  I  was  called  on  the  telephone  by  a 
mysterious  person  who  asked  me  if  I  would  he  willing  to  trans- 
late an  article  from  an  English  magazine  into  German. 

"Certainly,"  I  answered,  "but  before  I  can  state  my  terms, 
I  must  see  the  article  and  know  with  whom  I  am  dealing." 

"My  principal  cannot  tell  his  name,"  was  the  answer. 

By  this  time  my  curiosity  was  aroused,  so  I  told  the  man 


116  MAROOXED  IX  MOSCOW 

to  bring  me  the  article.  It  proved  to  be  an  article  on  the 
cq)bers  in  use  in  the  British  War  Office  and  the  publication 
in  which  it  appeared  was  the  British  Army  Journal.  I  cannot 
imagirte  what  use  it  would  have  been  to  the  ov»Tier,  as  the 
British  certainly  do  not  publish  the  keys  to  their  most  secret 
ciphers,  but  there  was  evidently  some  reason  which  I  could 
not  fathom.  I  put  a  prohibitive  price  on  my  services  and 
never  heard  anything  more  from  my  mysterious  German 
friend. 

Among  my  acquaintances  was  a  German  aviation  officer 
who  had  flown  to  Russia  in  the  autumn  of  1919  with  the 
first  drugs  and  medical  supplies  brought  from  Germany.  His 
plane  had  fallen  near  Mtebsk  and  he  had  been  badlj^  injured, 
but  after  his  recover}-  he  remained  in  ^loscow  for  many 
months,  well  treated  and  apparenth-  on  a  mission  from  the 
German  junkers  who  were  undoubtedly  intriguing  with  the 
Soviet  Government  at  the  time  of  the  Kapp  Putsch  in  Berlin. 

I  also  met  a  Hungarian,  posing  as  the  agent  of  the  Red 
Cross,  universally  condemned  as  an  international  crook  and 
speculator,  and  yet  he  seemed  to  enjoy  pecuHar  immunit}', 
coming  and  going  between  Russia  and  Berlin  with  great  fre- 
quenc}-.  The  German  officer  lived  at  his  apartment  Such 
dues  picked  up  from  time  to  time  were  ver}*  interesting  to 
me.  I  wondered  if,  after  all,  the  Allies  had  only  scotched  their 
snake,  not  killed  him.  Many  stray  bits  of  evidence  seemed  to 
point  to  the  fact  that  Pan-Germanism  is  slowly  and  painfully 
beginning  to  blaze  a  new  trail  from  Berlin  to  Bagdad,  via 
Moscow  and  Tashkend. 

Once  I  had  a  telephone  message  from  a  Russian  who  re- 
fused to  give  his  name  and  asked  me  to  meet  him  at  an  ap- 
pointed time  on  a  certain  street  comer.  Curiosity  got  the 
better  of  prudence  and  I  went.  There  I  found  a  young  man 
exceedingly  well  dressed,  of  rather  prepossessing  appearance. 
He  had  a  short,  curly  beard,  and  when  I  looked  at  him  more 
closely  I  saw  that  it  was  false.  This  at  once  aroused  my 
suspicions.  He  proceeded  to  tell  me,  with  an  apparent  amaz- 
ing lack  of  caution,  without  stopping  to  find  out  my  own 
political  opinions,  that  he  was  a  counter-re\-olutionar}-,  in  fact 


UNDER  SUSPICION  117 

a  Monarchist.  His  father  and  two  brothers  had  been  shot,  he 
told  me,  under  the  most  brutal  circumstances,  and  his  one 
thought  was  revenge.  He  was  connected  with  a  counter-revo- 
lutionary Russian  group  in  Berlin,  of  whom  the  head  was  a 
man  whose  name,  as  I  recall  it,  was  General  Bitkopski;  he 
would  be  undyingly  grateful  to  me  if,  on  leaving  Russia  I 
would  agree  to  take  a  letter  through  to  the  general. 

I  told  him  that  his  confidence  in  a  stranger  was  over- 
whelming, to  say  the  least.  "Moreover,"  I  added,  "if  you 
are  trying  to  conceal  your  identity  you  should  be  a  little  more 
careful  about  the  way  you  put  on  that  false  beard."  He  was 
nothing  more  or  less  than  an  agent  of  the  Moscow  Checka 
who  had  been  sent  to  test  my  political  opinions. 


CHAPTER  XII 
BUREAUS  AND  BUREAUCRATS 

Endless  visits  to  commissars,  commissariats  and  Soviet 
institutions  form  part  of  the  regular  routine  of  foreign  cor- 
respondents in  Moscow.  They  usually  take  up  a  tremendous 
amount  of  time  and  energy,  owing  partly  to  the  fact  that  no 
Russian  has  the  faintest  value  of  time  and  partly  to  the 
enormous  distances  to  be  covered.  The  street  railway  system 
does  not  operate  between  October  and  the  end  of  April,  and 
when  the  cars  started  running  they  were  always  so  crowded 
that  it  was  as  much  as  one's  life  was  worth  to  get  on,  much 
less  secure  a  seat,  as  there  was  a  tremendous  car  shortage. 
Isvostchiks  were  outrageously  expensive.  I  never  understood 
why,  in  view  of  the  utterly  inadequate  transportation  facilities, 
the  Soviet  Government  did  not  nationalize  the  cabbies.  They 
were  the  most  brazen  profiteers  in  Moscow.  It  was  impossible 
even  after  bargaining  for  at  least  ten  minutes  to  induce  one  to 
take  you  anywhere  for  less  than  fifteen  hundred  roubles,  this 
at  a  time  when  a  rouble  was  twenty-five  hundred  to  the  dollar, 
and  a  trip  of  any  length  cost  from  ten  to  twelve  thousand 
roubles.  Occasionally  we  were  promised  a  government  auto- 
mobile, but  it  frequently  failed  to  show  up  altogether  or  ar- 
rived an  hour  or  two  late.  Kerosene  was  the  only  motor  fuel, 
all  cars  were  in  bad  condition  and  we  often  got  stuck  in  the 
snow,  or  broke  down  by  the  roadside.  Consequently  I  made 
most  of  these  excursions  on  foot. 

It  often  happened  that  commissars  forgot  their  engage- 
ments or  absented  themselves  without  a  word  of  apology  as  in 
the  case  of  H.  N.  Brailsford,  the  distinguished  English  jour- 
nalist, who  stayed  at  my  guest  house.  Although  he  was  writ- 
ing for  the  London  Daily  Herald,  which  was  said  to  be  sub- 
sidized by  the  Soviet  Government,  he  left  Russia  without  see- 
ing either  Lenin  or  Lunacharsky,  the  two  men  he  particularly 

Il8 


BUREAUS  AND  BUREAUCRATS   119 

wished  to  see,  with  both  of  whom  he  had  engagements  which 
were  broken  at  the  last  minute.  I  was  more  fortunate,  owing 
to  the  fact  that  I  spent  a  much  longer  time  in  Russia  than  most 
correspondents,  and  was  able  to  accommodate  myself  to  Rus- 
sian habits  of  procrastination. 

Perhaps  the  most  interesting  of  my  interviews  with  various 
commissars  was  one  with  Djerzhinsky,  Commissar  of  Internal 
Affairs  and  Chairman  of  the  Extraordinary  Commission, 
popularly  known  as  the  Checka,  who,  as  it  afterwards  proved, 
was  my  jailer  for  nearly  a  year.  He  was  probably  meditating 
locking  me  up  when  I  called  on  him  in  the  early  Spring  at  his 
office  in  the  headquarters  of  the  Extraordinary  Commission,  a 
ramshackle  building  on  the  Lubianka.  I  arrived  at  the  ap- 
pointed time,  and  was  escorted  up  a  narrow  stairway  into  a 
rather  gloomy  room  with  two  windows  looking  out  into  a 
small  court.  There  was  apparently  only  one  door,  that  by 
which  I  had  come  in,  two  sides  were  lined  with  bookcases 
reaching  almost  to  the  ceiling.  I  was  told  by  a  clerk  that  the 
Commissar  would  see  me  in  a  few  minutes.  In  a  little  while 
a  desk  telephone  rang,  the  clerk  got  up,  and  much  to  my  amaze- 
ment, opened  the  door  of  one  of  the  bookcases  and  asked  me 
to  walk  in.  It  was  a  secret  passage  leading  to  Djerzhinsky's 
office,  a  tiny  cabinet  with  one  window.  Seated  at  a  huge 
desk  was  a  mild  looking  little  blond  man,  whom  I  at  first 
took  for  Djerzhinsky's  secretary,  and  it  was  at  least  a  minute 
before  I  realized  that  I  was  talking  to  the  most  feared  man  in 
all  Russia. 

Djerzhinsky  is  a  Pole  of  very  good  family  and  inherited 
estates  near  Svenchiani  in  the  province  of  Vilna.  He  has  been 
a  Revolutionary  since  before  the  Revolution  of  1905  and  spent 
eleven  years  in  prison  under  Nicholas  11.  As  I  looked  at  him 
I  recalled  what  I  had  read  of  the  frailty  and  refinement  of 
Robespierre.  He  is  slender,  slightly  under  the  middle  height, 
with  fair  hair,  rather  thin  around  the  temples,  a  small  pointed 
beard,  clean  cut,  aristocratic  features,  skin  as  smooth  as  a 
child's  and  cheeks  flushed  with  hectic  color,  for  he  contracted 
tuberculosis  while  in  prison.  I  had  dozens  of  questions  to  ask 
him,  but  he  forestalled  them  all  by  describing  to  me  the  activi- 


120  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

ties  of  the  Extraordinary  Commission  since  its  creation  in  the 
early  days  of  the  Revolution,  stating  quite  frankly  that  it  was 
an  organization  duplicating  in  many  respects,  the  Okhrana, 
the  Czar's  secret  police,  but  that  it  was  both  justified  and  neces- 
sitated by  post-revolutionary  conditions.  He  claimed,  and  I 
believe  this  to  be  substantially  true,  that  the  majority  of  exe- 
cutions in  Russia  at  the  present  time,  are  not  political,  but 
chiefly  for  banditism,  speculation,  espionage  and  army  de- 
sertion. 

It  is  perfectly  true  that  the  Checka  has  succeeded  in  re- 
storing order  in  the  great  cities.  Moscow  and  Petrograd  are 
safer  for  the  average  citizen,  as  far  as  highway  robbery  and 
lawlessness  are  concerned,  than  any  of  the  large  cities  of 
Europe  or  America,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  he  is  never  safe 
from  arrest. 

Two  stories  which  came  to  my  personal  knowledge  will 
serve  to  illustrate  the  methods  of  the  Checka.  A  commissar 
in  charge  of  issuing  food  cards  devised  a  scheme,  with  the 
cooperation  of  six  of  his  employees,  of  issuing  three  hundred 
food  cards  to  fictitious  individuals.  The  supplies  collected  in 
this  manner  were  sold  by  the  gang  on  the  open  market,  the 
commissar  receiving  sixty  per  cent  of  the  proceeds  and  his 
confederates  the  remainder.  In  time  of  partial  famine,  such 
as  actually  then  existed  in  Moscow,  there  could  be  no  greater 
crime  against  the  community.  The  man  was  detected  by  the 
Checka  and  shot.    He  certainly  richly  deserved  his  fate. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  knew  of  two  brothers  who  were  ar- 
rested for  counter-revolutionary  activities.  They  had  no  ac- 
complices and  the  only  way  to  convict  them  was  to  get  one 
to  implicate  the  other.  After  repeated  cross-examinations  the 
examining  judge  found  that  the  elder  brother  was  of  a  far 
more  nervous  temperament  than  his  junior,  so  he  resorted  to 
strategy.  He  informed  him  that  his  brother  had  been  shot 
and  that  the  only  way  for  him  to  save  himself  was  to  confess 
his  part  in  the  affair.    The  man  refused  to  believe  him. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  judge,  "we  will  show  you  his  dead 
body." 

Meanwhile  he  compelled  the  younger  brother  to  undress 


BUREAUS  AND  BUREAUCRATS   121 

and  had  ordered  his  clothes  put  on  the  body  of  a  man  who 
had  really  been  shot.  It  was  placed  in  a  dimly  lighted  room, 
the  face  of  the  corpse  being  purposely  disfigured  by  gunshot 
wounds,  that  would  make  identification  difficult,  but  the  two 
men  were  very  similar  in  build.  Being  completely  unnerved 
the  elder  brother  was  not  disposed  to  be  too  minute  in  his 
examination  of  the  body  and  believing  it  to  be  that  of  his 
brother  he  made  a  full  confession.  He  was  then  taken  to  his 
cell  where  he  awaited  his  release.  After  three  weeks  he  was 
summoned  by  one  of  the  Checka  guards  and  taken  to  a  court- 
room of  the  Revolutionary  tribunal  where  he  was  confronted 
with  his  brother  against  whom  he  was  the  principal  witness. 
With  regard  to  shootings  which  actually  occurred  in 
Moscow  during  my  stay,  I  believe  the  monthly  statistics  pub- 
lished by  the  Checka  to  be  approximately  correct.  There  were 
several  hundred  each  in  March,  April  and  May,  increasing  to 
about  six  hundred  in  June,  and  eight  hundred  in  July,  owing 
to  the  Polish  offensive.  Few  people  were  shot  as  counter- 
revolutionists,  the  majority  being  committed  to  internment 
camps.  No  one  is  shot  at  the  present  time  on  sight,  so  to  speak, 
and  all  accused  prisoners  go  through  some  form  of  trial 
either  before  the  Revolutionary  Tribunals  or  the  Prsesidium, 
the  governing  body  of  the  Checka.  People  were  arrested  and 
often  held  for  months  for  the  most  trivial  reasons,  frequently 
as  witnesses  or  again  simply  for  the  purpose  of  isolation  during 
political  agitations.  The  whole  system  is  bad  in  theory,  in 
practice  it  is  subject  to  many  abuses,  and  often  misused  for 
the  gratification  of  personal  grievances.  But  terrorism  as  we 
understand  the  word  does  not  exist  except  in  provincial  prisons 
where  cruel  or  unscrupulous  officials  often  order  unjustified 
executions  without  the  knowledge  or  sanction  of  Moscow. 
Many  liberal  Communists  are  much  opposed  to  the  Checka  and 
it  is  planned  to  eventually  abolish  it  altogether,  putting  the 
entire  administration  of  justice  in  the  hands  of  the  People's 
Courts,  with  right  of  appeal  to  the  Central  Executive  Com- 
mittee sitting  as  the  Supreme  Court.  But  the  Checka  has  a 
strong  hold  and  is  supported  by  the  ultramontane  elements  in 
the  Communist  party.     Whenever  there  is  an  agitation  for  the 


122  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

abolishment  of  the  Extraordinary  Commission  or  curbing  its 
power  to  inflict  the  death  sentence,  the  Pravda  and  Isvcstia  are 
filled  with  accounts  of  dangerous  conspiracies  frequently  said 
to  be  instigated  from  abroad.  Unfortunately  there  is  just 
enough  truth  in  them  to  support  the  claim  of  the  Checka  that 
it  is  a  necessary  institution. 

Kursky,  the  Commissar  of  Justice,  formerly  a  well-known 
lawyer,  who  is  in  charge  of  the  People's  Courts,  told  me  that 
he  was  working  on  a  scheme  for  a  code  of  laws  based  on  the 
decrees  of  the  Council  of  People's  Commissars  and  other  ad- 
ministrative bodies,  which  for  the  present  take  the  place  of 
laws.  They  are  constantly  changing  and  are  frequently  inno- 
cently violated  by  people  who  have  not  had  time  or  who  are 
unable  to  read  them  as  published  in  the  newspapers  pasted  on 
the  walls,  which  are  their  only  source  of  information. 

Once  I  took  an  all  day  trip  with  Rickov,  then  Chairman 
of  the  Supreme  Economic  Council,  to  inspect  a  new  electric 
power  plant  in  process  of  construction  some  sixty  versts  from 
Moscow.  In  our  party  were  Losovsky,  Chairman  of  the  AU- 
Russian  Council  of  Trades  Unions,  a  number  of  engineers  and 
several  foreign  correspondents.  On  the  train  I  had  a  long 
conversation  with  Rickov,  who  was  formerly  one  of  the  heads 
of  the  cooperatives.  He  told  me  something  of  the  organization 
of  the  Supreme  Council,  which  at  that  time  had  fifty  depart- 
ments controlling  nearly  five  thousand  nationalized  industries, 
and  all  the  cooperatives,  comprising  the  entire  machinery  of 
production  and  distribution  in  Russia. 

He  was  a  delightful  host,  but  he  struck  me  as  being  a 
rather  vague  and  unpractical  person.  The  plant  we  visited  was 
one  of  the  links  in  the  vast  scheme  for  the  electrification  of 
Russia,  planned  by  the  great  engineer  Kryzianovski,  which  if  it 
is  carried  out,  will  perhaps  in  twenty-five  years'  time  supply 
light  and  power  to  every  city,  town  and  village  in  Russia.  Rail- 
roads, plants  and  factories  will  be  operated  by  electricity  and 
such  a  tremendous  saving  of  labor  will  be  effected  that  no  one 
will  have  to  work  more  than  three  or  four  hours  a  day.  Rickov 
explained  all  this  to  me  with  enthusiasm  while  showing  us 
over  the  plant. 


BUEEAUS  AND  BUREAUCRATS   123 

It  was  being  built  close  to  large  peat  deposits  which  were 
to  supply  the  fuel  and  where  machines  for  cutting  and  drying 
peat  were  already  installed.  The  power  house  which  was  to 
furnish  seven  thousand  kilowatts  daily  was  nearly  finished, 
and  as  they  were  not  able  to  get  turbines,  the  constructing 
engineers  had  utilized  two  turbines  from  dismantled  battle- 
ships at  Kronstadt.  A  short  distance  away  was  a  model  work- 
men's village  with  attractive  wooden  cottages,  a  large  com- 
munity dining  hall,  a  splendid  schoolhouse  and  a  recreation 
center.    It  was  a  Utopian  scheme  in  miniature. 

Meanwhile  Rickov  was  actually  facing  a  shortage  of  fuel, 
raw  material  and  labor  which  had  closed  practically  all  the 
factories  in  Russia  except  the  most  essential  industries.  The 
cumbrous  departments  of  the  Supreme  Economic  Council  were 
overburdened  with  red  tape,  the  cooperatives  were  unable  to 
supply  the  needs  of  the  people,  the  transportation  system  was 
utterly  inadequate,  but  Rickov  and  his  associates  with  charac- 
teristic Russian  idealism  were  dreaming  of  a  future  millennium. 

I  found  the  same  attitude  of  mind  on  the  part  of  Sereda, 
Commissar  of  Agriculture,  whose  pet  scheme  is  the  organiza- 
tion of  the  rural  farm  communes  which  so  far  have  not  proved 
a  success.  The  wonderful  propaganda  and  educational  work 
of  the  Commissariat  is  overbalanced  by  the  fact  that  they  lack 
the  practical  arguments,  seeds,  agricultural  implements,  and 
farm  machinery  to  convert  the  peasants  to  Communist  methods 
and  to  stimulate  agricultural  production. 

Schmidt,  the  Commissar  of  Labor,  is  quite  an  able  man 
and  a  German  by  birth.  He  lives  in  the  Kremlin  and  his 
mother,  who  was  formerly  a  cook  in  the  palace  of  one  of  the 
Russian  Grand  Duchesses,  says  that  she  doesn't  know  much 
about  the  Revolution,  but  she  knows  that  her  boy  has  certainly 
got  a  fine  position.  Her  favorite  amusement  is  to  sit  at  her 
window  on  the  ground  floor  of  her  apartment  and  hand  out 
home-made  cakes  to  passing  Red  Army  men. 

Every  Russian  citizen  between  the  ages  of  eighteen  and  fifty 
for  men  and  eighteen  and  forty  for  women,  must  be  a  worker 
and  must  register  through  the  work  exchange  of  the  Com- 
missariat of  Labor  which  acts  in  cooperation  with  the  Trades 


124  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

Unions.  Efficiency  of  industrial  labor  has  been  tremendously 
decreased  owing  to  living  conditions,  conscriptions  for  the 
army,  exodus  of  skilled  workers  to  the  country,  where  they 
obtain  better  food  and  pay,  and  the  influx  of  unskilled  peasant 
workers  who  have  no  means  of  cultivating  their  land.  Many 
of  the  best  factory  workers  are  Communists  and  are  excused 
to  do  propaganda  work. 

In  the  Commissariats  there  is  much  sabotage,  much  pad- 
ding of  payrolls  and  much  inefficiency,  largely  due  to  the 
complicated  bureaucratic  system,  and  there  is  an  enormous 
amount  of  official  corruption,  an  inheritance  from  the  old 
regime.  One  of  my  friends  at  the  Foreign  Office  was  the 
head  of  the  financial  section.  He  was  a  middle-aged  man 
with  a  taste  for  old  porcelain  and  furniture.  One  day  when  I 
was  in  his  office  to  collect  a  draft  sent  me  by  radio  from  the 
office  of  the  Associated  Press  at  Copenhagen,  he  showed  me 
all  his  treasures,  comprising  two  beautiful  Sevres  vases  and  a 
silver-inlaid  musket,  which  had  belonged  to  Peter  the  Great. 
The  next  time  I  inquired  for  him  I  was  told  he  was  out,  and  I 
afterwards  discovered  that  he  had  been  arrested,  convicted  and 
shot  for  speculation. 

In  several  Commissariats,  such  as  that  of  Posts  and  Tele- 
graphs and  that  of  Ways  and  Communications,  which  handles 
rail  and  water  transportation,  the  old  personnel  has  remained 
to  a  large  extent.  In  the  former  the  same  employees  in  the 
Foreign  Mail  Censorship  department  who  examined  all  out- 
going letters  for  the  Czar's  Okhrana  are  performing  the  identi- 
cal service  for  the  Checka. 

One  of  the  most  efficient  Commissariats  is  that  of  Public 
Health,  under  Dr.  Semashko,  who  is  a  remarkably  capable, 
hard-working  man,  and  he  has  done  wonders  with  the  limited 
means  at  his  disposal.  He  is  tremendously  handicapped  by 
the  shortage  of  physicians  and  medical  and  surgical  supplies. 
All  physicians  are  nationalized  and  the  best  have  been  taken 
into  the  army  sanitary  service.  A  feature  of  the  work  of  the 
Public  Health  department  is  its  educational  campaign.  It 
gets  out  an  enormous  amount  of  literature  in  popular  form. 
One  of  the  most  amusing  of  its  pamphlets  was  one  written  in 


BUREAUS  AND  BUREAUCRATS   125 

verse,  in  which  it  described  how  disease  is  spread  by  vermin. 
A  number  of  disinfecting  and  deloiising  plants  have  been  con- 
structed in  Moscow,  Petrograd  and  other  cities,  and  periodical 
"Weeks  of  Cleanliness"  and  "Bath  Weeks"  are  held,  but  sani- 
tary conditions  in  all  Russian  cities  are  bad,  owing  to  the  com- 
plete or  partial  breakdown  of  plumbing  and  water  supply  sys- 
tems, lack  of  repair  material,  skilled  workmen  and  the  utter 
disregard  by  the  majority  of  the  people  of  the  observance  of 
ordinary  rules  of  cleanliness  or  decency.  I  doubt  if  they  are 
much  worse  in  this  respect  than  they  were  in  the  old  days. 

The  most  interesting  of  all  the  Commissariats  to  me  was 
the  Commissariat  of  Education,  which  is  indirectly  one  of  the 
most  important  political  factors  in  Russia  at  the  present  time. 
It  has  done  more  than  anything  else  to  keep  up  the  morale  of 
the  people  during  a  period  of  intolerable  suffering  and  priva- 
tion and  it  is  teaching  the  people  of  Russia  to  think  for  them- 
selves. Until  its  work  is  accomplished  there  can  never  be  any 
form  of  genuine  popular  government  in  Russia. 

Lunacharsky,  Commissar  of  Education,  is  an  extremely 
cultivated  man,  who  speaks  nearly  all  European  languages 
fluently.  Although  a  Communist  by  training  he  is  far  more  of 
a  Maximalist  by  instinct,  and  an  artist  and  individualist  to  his 
finger  tips.  When  I  saw  him  in  his  apartment  in  the  Kremlin, 
in  a  seventeenth  century  palace,  alluringly  christened  the  "Pal- 
ace of  Little  Pleasures,"  and  formerly  the  residence  of  the 
commander  of  the  Kremlin,  he  talked  to  me  chiefly  of  the 
Prolet-cult,  his  great  scheme  for  making  world  culture  access- 
ible to  the  masses  of  the  people,  and  little  of  the  general  plan 
of  education.  He  was  enthusiastic  about  the  formation  of 
dramatic  clubs  for  workmen  and  sent  me  to  the  director  of 
this  department,  through  whom  I  later  saw  some  very  interest- 
ing performances  of  this  character.  Lunacharsky  told  me 
that  he  believed  the  best  of  the  world's  dramas  and  literature 
should  be  placed  within  the  reach  of  the  people,  without  any 
intermediate  preparatory  stage,  trusting  to  what  he  is  con- 
vinced is  their  own  unerring  and  uncorrupted  aesthetic  sense. 
In  some  cases  his  theories  have  worked  out  with  startling 
results,  though  not  always   in  the  way  he   intended.     For 


126  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

example,  he  had  an  idea  that  the  peasants  would  enjoy  the 
ballet,  and  sent  the  ballet  from  the  Grand  Opera  House  in 
Moscow  to  make  a  provincial  tour  in  small  towns  where 
nothing  of  the  sort  had  ever  been  seen  before.  Instead  of 
being  entranced  by  the  beauty  and  color  of  the  thing,  the 
peasants  were  profoundly  shocked  by  the  display  of  the  bare 
arms  and  legs  of  the  coryphees  and  left  the  performances 
before  they  were  over,  thoroughly  disgusted. 

While  I  was  talking  to  Lunacharsky,  his  two  children,  a 
boy  and  girl  about  nine  and  twelve  years  old,  respectively,  came 
in,  asking  permission  to  go  to  a  performance  at  the  children's 
theater.  I  found  that  they  did  not  live  in  one  of  the  many 
children's  homes,  but  with  their  parents,  and  attended  day 
school  like  any  other  children  in  capitalist  countries.  Con- 
trary to  general  opinion,  the  placing  of  children  in  homes  or 
other  institutions  is  not  compulsory  in  Russia,  but  it  is  easier 
for  the  average  parents  who  are  compelled  to  work  all  day  and 
who  find  it  difficult  to  take  proper  care  of  their  children  and 
to  go  through  the  red  tape  necessary  to  collect  the  rations  and 
clothing  given  out  on  cards.  The  public  school  system  in  Rus- 
sia is  magnificent  in  theory;  according  to  the  general  plan  of 
education  every  Russian  citizen  will  eventually  be  able  to  ob- 
tain an  education  absolutely  free,  under  a  uniform  school  sys- 
tem, extending  from  the  kindergarten  grade  to  the  most  highly 
specialized  technical  or  professional  training. 

At  present  it  is  hampered  by  material  difficulties.  I  knew 
of  many  children  who  were  not  able  to  go  to  school  at  all, 
owing  to  the  fact  that  they  had  no  shoes  or  clothing;  others 
who  lived  in  districts  where  the  schools  were  closed  on  account 
of  disrepair  or  lack  of  fuel  for  heating  purposes.  Hundreds 
of  them  spent  their  days  in  the  streets,  speculating  or  stealing, 
while  their  parents  were  at  work,  and  the  amount  of  juvenile 
immorality  among  children  of  this  class  was  appalling.  Thou- 
sands more  lived  in  the  children's  homes,  which,  as  a  whole, 
were  very  well  run  and  exceedingly  interesting.  They  were 
usually  in  the  former  residences  of  rich  bourgeois  and  were 
organized  on  the  cottage  plan,  not  more  than  twenty  children 
to  a  house.     They  were  of  both  sexes,  ranging  in  age  from 


BUREAUS  AND  BUREAUCRATS   127 

three  to  sixteen,  in  order  to  give  the  atmosphere  of  normal 
family  life.  The  boys  and  girls  slept  in  separate  rooms,  the 
little  ones  being  taken  care  of  by  the  larger  ones,  who  did  most 
of  the  manual  work.  The  older  children  went  to  school,  the 
little  ones  being  taught  at  home,  often  in  a  thoroughly  modern 
manner,  by  teachers  trained  in  the  Montessori  system.  Great 
attention  was  given  to  developing  originality  and  initiative, 
and  of  course  the  authorities  saw  to  it  that  they  received  thor- 
ough grounding  in  the  principles  of  Communism.  If  the 
Soviet  Government  remains  in  power  for  some  years  it  will  be 
very  interesting  to  see  what  hold  the  Communistic  idea  gets  on 
the  younger  generation,  starting  out  without  any  preconceived 
ideas  or  prejudices.  In  one  of  the  homes  I  saw  a  Httle  girl 
about  five  years  old  playing  with  a  doll. 

"What  a  pretty  dolly,"  I  said.     "Is  she  yours?" 

"Oh,  no,"  was  the  quick  reply,  "she  isn't  my  dolly,  she's 
our  dolly." 

In  another  home  I  saw  an  impromptu  performance  of  one 
of  the  fables  of  Krelov,  the  Russian  La  Fontaine,  by  tots 
between  four  and  six.  Each  child  wore  a  crudely  painted 
muslin  mask  representing  one  of  the  animal  characters.  Not 
one  forgot  or  stumbled  over  a  line,  and  the  way  they  entered 
into  the  spirit  of  the  thing  was  remarkable.  The  wolf  was 
ill-natured  and  snarling,  the  bear  delightfully  clumsy,  the  little 
fox  had  just  the  right  mixture  of  servility  and  cunning,  and 
the  lamb  was  appropriately  meek  and  terrified  in  such  strange 
company. 

In  the  suburbs  I  saw  a  well  run  home  for  tubercular  chil- 
dren equipped  in  a  thoroughly  up-to-date  manner,  a  home  for 
orthopedic  cases  and  a  sanatorium  for  children  physically  under 
par,  where  they  received  particularly  nourishing  food  and  spent 
part  of  each  day  during  the  Summer  lying  naked  in  the  sun. 
There  was  also  a  fascinating  school  in  Moscow  for  children 
who  showed  unusual  aptitude  for  music,  drawing  or  dancing. 
Dancing  was  taught  by  the  Dalcroz  method  and  some  of  the 
little  pupils  gave  really  remarkable  exhibitions  of  interpreta- 
tive dancing.  I  also  saw  a  splendid  home  for  defective  chil- 
dren.   The  food  in  these  institutions  and  in  the  primary  and 


128  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

secondary  schools,  where  every  registered  pupil  gets  one  hot 
meal  a  day,  is  far  above  the  average  of  that  obtained  in  adult 
dining-rooms,  though  it  is  not  sufficient  by  any  means.  It 
varies  greatly,  depending  upon  the  supplies  on  hand  in  the 
Moscow  Food  Administration  and  the  honesty  of  the  indi- 
vidual superintendent.  One  day  I  dropped  in  unannounced 
at  two  dining-rooms  not  far  apart,  where  the  rations  for  the 
day  should  have  been  similar.  At  one  the  children  had  a  good 
thick  soup,  roast  pork  with  kasha,  and  a  large  piece  of  black 
bread;  at  the  other  they  had  a  soup  like  warm  dishwater,  a 
small  portion  of  kasha,  and  nothing  more. 

Registration  in  the  University  of  Moscow  was  enormous, 
amounting  to  about  five  thousand  pupils,  but  the  attendance 
was  relatively  very  small  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  buildings 
could  not  be  properly  heated.  I  found  many  of  the  old  pro- 
fessors in  charge  of  the  courses,  and  they  fared  tolerably  well 
as  they  obtained  the  academic  payok,  a  food  ration  superior  to 
the  average.  They  were  terribly  handicapped  in  many  cases  by 
the  lack  of  textbooks  and  laboratory  material.  The  students 
were,  as  a  rule,  not  actively  interested  in  politics,  in  distinct 
contrast  to  the  old  days,  and  if  they  had  any  political  opinions 
at  all  they  were  inclined  to  be  reactionary  rather  than  otherwise. 

The  working  schools  which  are  run  in  connection  with  the 
public  school  system,  where  the  children  receive  practical  voca- 
tional and  technical  training,  are  very  interesting.  I  saw  some 
of  the  concrete  results  of  this  training  at  an  exhibition  at  the 
Strogonov  Institute,  where  there  were  some  excellent  samples 
of  textile  designing  and  weaving,  pottery,  woodcuts,  litho- 
graphs, toys,  furniture  and  mechanical  models  made  by  boys 
and  girls  from  twelve  to  sixteen, 

I  have  already  spoken  of  the  classes  for  adult  illiterates  in 
the  Red  Army.  These  have  been  extended  to  the  civilian  popu- 
lation and  are  part  of  the  Communist  propaganda,  many  party 
workers  volunteering  as  teachers  in  clubs  or  factories. 

Many  of  the  teachers  in  Soviet  schools  and  institutions 
are  non-Communists.  Numbers  of  them  have  been  engaged 
in  educational  work  for  many  years.  While  bitterly  opposed 
to  the  Soviet  Government  on  principle,  they  are  absorbed  in 


BUREAUS  AND  BUREAUCRATS   129 

their  work  and  very  happy  in  being  able,  even  with  the  tremen- 
dous material  difficulties  existing  at  the  present  time,  to  carry 
out  their  theories  and  ideas,  for  in  all  matters  connected  with 
art,  science  or  education  the  Soviet  Government  is  remarkably, 
often  exaggeratedly,  liberal.  It  is  always  willing  to  try  new 
methods;  many  of  those  in  practical  operation  at  the  present 
time  were  thought  out  by  idealists  many  years  ago  under  the 
Czar's  regime  and  cherished  in  secret.  Altogether,  the  new 
system  of  education  in  Russia  is  admirable  in  theory.  "But," 
the  average  foreigner  will  ask,  "to  what  extent  are  the  Bol- 
sheviks putting  it  into  practice  ?"  Roughly  speaking,  I  should 
say  that  in  the  parts  of  Russia  where  reasonably  normal  con- 
ditions exist,  possibly  forty  per  cent,  of  the  children  are  re- 
ceiving an  education.  In  Moscow  and  Petrograd  the  percent- 
age is  much  higher,  in  the  country  districts  very  much  lower 
as  a  rule. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
IKONS  AND  ANTI-CHRIST 

One  of  the  facts  that  struck  me  most  forcibly  in  Moscow- 
was  that  the  churches  were  invariably  packed  to  the  doors  at 
the  services.  I  often  dropped  in  at  vespers  or  high  mass  on 
Sunday  at  churches  in  various  parts  of  the  city,  and  there  was 
always  an  enormous  congregation.  It  occurred  to  me  that  it 
would  be  extremely  interesting  to  find  out  about  the  position 
of  the  church  from  other  than  government  officials.  So,  having 
learned  from  some  of  my  Russian  friends  that  the  Patriarch 
Tikhon  was  living  in  Moscow  under  house  arrest  in  the  palace 
of  the  former  Metropolitan  Bishop,  I  went  to  call  on  him,  ac- 
companied by  Francis  McCullagh. 

The  Metropolitan's  palace,  which  is  tucked  away  behind 
one  of  the  boulevards,  was  hard  to  find,  but  we  managed  to 
locate  it  by  means  of  a  street  map,  rang  the  bell  and  were 
ushered  in  by  an  ancient  flunkey  in  faded  dark  blue  knicker- 
bockers and  coat  adorned  with  gold  lace,  and  wearing  worn- 
out  buckled  slippers,  to  the  office  of  a  deacon  who  was  acting 
as  his  secretary.  At  first  the  latter  was  not  at  all  inclined  to 
even  take  in  our  names  to  the  Patriarch,  but  when  he  found 
that  Mr.  McCullagh  was  a  Catholic,  and  was  leaving  shortly 
for  England,  he  consented  to  ask  him  if  he  would  receive  us. 
The  Patriarch,  even  in  the  old  days,  was  known  as  a  man 
of  exceedingly  liberal  views,  and  one  of  his  dreams  has  always 
been  a  federation  of  the  three  great  Christian  denominations — 
Orthodox,  Anglican  and  Catholic  churches.  He  believes  that 
only  by  some  such  cooperation  can  Christianity  be  saved  and 
the  present  wave  of  social  unrest  be  stayed  in  Europe  and 
America. 

After  a  short  absence  the  deacon  returned  to  say  that  the 
Patriarch  would  see  us,  and  we  were  shown  upstairs  to  the 

130 


IKONS  AND  ANTI-CHRIST  131 

Metropolitan's  audience  chamber,  a  once  beautiful  room  with 
walls  of  pale  blue  brocade  adorned  with  portraits  of  former 
Bishops  and  church  dignitaries,  with  rococo  gilt  furniture  up- 
holstered in  the  same  delicate  shade,  but  a  bit  down  at  the  heel 
like  the  old  retainer  and  everything  else  in  the  house.  There 
was  evidently  not  enough  coal  to  heat  the  building,  for  we 
could  see  our  breaths  as  we  sat  on  a  sofa  at  the  end  of  a  long 
gilt  table  with  a  superb  inlaid  top  and  waited  for  the  Patriarch. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  ancient  retainer,  who  seemed  to  con- 
stitute the  Patriarch's  sole  retinue,  flung  open  the  door  at  the 
end  of  the  room  with  a  low  bow,  and  Tikhon  came  in,  looking 
every  inch  a  prince  of  the  church  and  showing  no  ill  effects 
from  his  confinement.  He  was  dressed  in  a  long  cassock  of 
rich  black  silk.  Around  his  neck  was  a  jeweled  chain  terminat- 
ing in  a  superb  cross,  on  his  index  finger  was  his  ring,  which 
Mr.  McCullagh  kissed  devoutly.  He  wore  on  his  head  the 
traditional  headdress  of  the  Greek  church,  a  close-fitting 
helmet-like  cap  of  white  velvet  beautifully  embroidered  in 
seed  pearls,  with  long  rounded  tabs  that  fell  on  either  side  of 
his  full  grey  beard,  and  surmounted  by  a  gold  cross  studded 
with  diamonds  and  rubies.  Such  ceremony  seemed  rather 
futile  under  actual  conditions,  but  I  could  not  help  admiring 
the  old  gentleman's  fine  spirit  and  his  insistence  on  keeping  up 
the  semblance  of  pomp  and  circumstance. 

He  greeted  us  in  Russian,  apologizing  at  the  same  time 
for  the  fact  that  he  had  forgotten  most  of  his  French,  and  was 
much  relieved  when  he  found  we  understood  the  Russian 
language. 

**I  also  once  spoke  a  little  English,"  he  added,  "but  that 
was  many  years  ago  when  I  was  Bishop  of  Alaska,  and  I 
remember  very  well  visiting  Minneapolis  when  it  was  a  small 
town.    I  suppose  it  is  a  great  city  now." 

We  asked  him  to  give  us  an  idea  of  the  position  of  the 
Orthodox  Church  and  its  relation  to  the  Soviet  Government. 
He  told  us  that  while  he  was  a  constitutional  Monarchist,  and 
on  those  as  well  as  on  ecclesiastical  grounds,  bitterly  opposed  to 
Bolshevism,  he  believed  that  the  Bolsheviks  had  done  one  good 
thing  for  the  Russian  church,  by  bringing  about  the  separation 


132  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

of  church  and  state.  Formerly  the  priest  was  merely  a  gov- 
ernment functionary,  working  as  such,  generally  without  any 
sense  of  particular  fitness  for  his  vocation.  Sons  of  priests 
inherited  the  right  to  go  to  seminaries  and  become  candidates 
for  the  priesthood.  Most  of  them  were  lazy,  inefficient;  they 
were  often  immoral  and  great  drunkards.  Discipline  of  the 
clergy  by  the  church  itself  was  very  difficult  if  a  priest  hap- 
pened, as  was  often  the  case,  to  have  the  protection  and  patron- 
age of  one  of  the  great  nobles.  The  people  were  compelled  to 
support  the  priest,  and  his  parish  visits  were  made  mainly  with 
the  object  of  collecting  his  tithes  in  kind  and  money.  Now, 
the  people,  when  they  supported  their  priest,  did  so  voluntarily 
and  at  great  personal  sacrifice  to  themselves.  He  had  to  give 
them  of  his  best,  and  be  a  very  superior  sort  of  man  at  that  in 
order  to  keep  his  parish. 

The  Soviet  Government  allowed  in  each  parish  as  many 
priests  and  churches  as  the  parishioners  were  willing  to  sup- 
port, and  had  left  all  the  churches  in  possession  of  their  ikons, 
robes  and  sacramental  vessels,  many  of  which  were  of  great 
beauty  and  represented  untold  millions  in  value,  although  it 
had  dispossessed  the  church  of  all  its  lands  and  revenues. 
The  church  treasures  Vvcre  technically  the  property  of  the  state, 
but  were  held  in  trust  for  it  by  the  priest.  Duplicate  lists  of 
the  contents  of  every  church  were  made  by  a  commissar  acting 
for  the  Soviet  Government,  one  copy  being  retained  by  the 
priest.  Once  a  year  the  list  was  checked  over  by  the  priest 
and  commissar  to  see  that  nothing  was  missing.  A  number 
of  priests  had  been  arrested  for  counter-revolutionary  activi- 
ties and  as  far  as  he  had  been  able  to  compile  a  list,  which  was 
difficult  owing  to  poor  facilities  for  communications,  three 
hundred  and  twenty-two  bishops  and  priests  had  been  executed 
since  the  beginning  of  the  Revolution. 

At  the  moment  the  Patriarch  believed  that  the  influence  of 
the  church  on  the  lives  of  the  people  was  stronger  than  it  had 
ever  been  in  all  its  history,  but  he  was  dubious  as  to  its  future 
if  the  Communist  dictatorship  kept  up  too  long.  In  the  first 
place,  he  said,  it  was  impossible  to  hold  convocations  of  the 
clergy  for  the  purpose  of  ordaining  priests  or  bishops  to  take 


IKONS  AND  ANTI-CHRIST  133 

the  places  of  those  who  died  or  were  arrested  or  executed,  as 
priests  and  ecclesiastical  dignitaries  were  not  permitted  to 
travel.  Secondly,  all  the  seminaries  and  theological  schools 
had  been  closed  and  there  would  be  no  new  generation  of 
priests  to  take  the  place  of  the  others.  Then  the  church  was 
obliged  to  give  up  all  its  parish  schools  and  the  Soviet  admin- 
istration was  conducting  a  strong  anti-religious  propaganda 
among  the  school  children.  Parents,  however,  could  instruct 
their  children  in  religion  and  send  them  to  the  priests  for  indi- 
vidual teaching. 

As  regarded  his  own  part  in  the  movement  against  Bol- 
shevism, I  gathered  that  he  was  content  for  the  time  at  least 
to  rest  on  his  laurels.  He  had,  about  a  year  before,  gotten 
out  an  encyclical  against  Bolshevism,  but  he  realized,  like  the 
intellectuals,  that  the  time  for  active  propaganda  was  not  ripe, 
and  that  any  conspirative  action  would  not  only  be  quite  use- 
less, but  would  remove  from  the  people  one  of  their  great 
sources  of  strength  and  consolation.  My  estimate  of  him  was 
that  he  was  absolutely  sincere,  with  a  fine  conception  of  the 
dignity  of  his  office  and  his  mission,  but  a  man  of  limited  in- 
tellectual capacity  and  rather  passive  in  character.  He  spoke 
to  us  with  the  enthusiasm  of  an  idealistic  dreamer  about  the 
union  of  the  churches.  As  to  his  treatment  by  the  Soviet 
authorities  he  said  that  he  had  nothing  of  which  he  could  com- 
plain, and  he  was  rather  inclined  to  be  reserved  about  anything 
touching  on  political  matters. 

My  own  observations  bore  out  his  assertions,  though  I  be- 
lieve that  he  rather  underestimated  the  strength  of  the  religious 
movement  in  Russia  at  the  present  time.  In  the  provinces  as 
well  as  in  Moscow  the  churches  were  always  crowded,  and  I 
talked  to  a  number  of  provincial  priests,  who  told  me  that  they 
had  never  lived  so  well  on  tithes  as  they  were  then  living  on  the 
voluntary  contributions  of  their  parishioners.  In  the  Church 
of  St.  Horiton,  just  across  the  way  from  my  guest  house,  sev- 
eral artists  from  the  Moscow  Grand  Opera  sang  in  the  choir. 
I  was  often  astonished  at  the  piles  of  five  hundred  and  thou- 
sand-rouble notes  heaped  on  the  plate  during  the  offertory. 
Sometimes,  standing  during  the  long  sen-^ices,  I  was  struck  by 


134  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

the  rapt  devotion  on  the  faces  of  the  people  around  me,  many 
of  whom  were  Red  Armists  in  uniform.  In  the  children's 
homes  run  by  the  Soviet  Government  I  frequently  noticed 
ikons,  or  sacred  images,  tied  to  the  heads  of  the  beds.  In  the 
churches,  in  spite  of  the  high  price  of  kerosene  and  the  fact 
that  many  homes  in  Moscow  were  actually  in  darkness  on  ac- 
count of  the  inability  of  families  to  purchase  fuel  for  lamps, 
I  saw  hundreds  of  votive  candles,  and  at  all  hours  of  the  day 
there  were  always  scores  of  devout  worshipers  with  votive 
offerings  before  the  shrine  of  the  Virgin  of  Iberia  at  the  en- 
trance to  the  Red  Square,  in  full  view  of  the  often  quoted  sign 
on  the  Moscow  municipal  building,  just  across  the  way,  that 
"Rehgion  Is  Opium  to  the  People." 

I  was  much  interested  in  the  effect  produced  by  the  open- 
ing of  the  "mostchi,"  or  bodies  of  the  saints,  which  was  under- 
taken by  the  Soviet  Government  some  two  years  ago  to  prove 
to  the  people  that  their  sacred  relics  were  dummies  of  old 
clothes,  papier-mache,  cotton-wool  and  straw.  It  was  given 
the  widest  possible  publicity  by  pamphlets,  newspaper  articles 
and  motion  pictures,  but  on  the  whole  produced  very  little 
effect.  The  great  mass  of  the  people  never  knew  anything 
about  it,  owing  to  the  fact  that  they  could  not  read,  and  movies 
and  propaganda  workers  could  not  reach  the  country  districts. 
Some  were  bitterly  disillusioned  and  turned  against  the  church, 
others  were  simply  indifferent,  and  many  devout  persons  be- 
lieved with  touching  naivete,  as  one  old  peasant  said  to  me, 
"Barischna,  our  holy  saints  disappeared  to  heaven  and  substi- 
tuted rags  and  straw  for  their  relics  when  they  found  that 
their  tombs  were  to  be  desecrated  by  nonbelievers.  It  was  a 
great  miracle." 

I  once  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  how  the  dispossessed 
nuns  who  still  adhere  to  their  vows  are  living  at  the  present 
time,  when  I  accompanied  young  Madame  Brusilov  to  the  con- 
vent of  Novo  Dievotche  on  the  outskirts  of  Moscow,  which  was 
once  a  fashionable  boarding-school,  and  where  she  was  her- 
self a  pupil.  A  great  many  of  the  convents  and  monasteries 
have  been  taken  over  by  the  government  as  internment  camps, 
but  there  are  certain  ones  in  Moscow  and  throughout  the  prov- 


IKONS  AND  ANTI-CHRIST  185 

inces  where  the  monks  and  nuns  are  allowed  to  remain  un- 
disturbed in  part  of  their  old  quarters,  the  remainder  being 
occupied  by  working  people.  This  was  the  case  with  the 
nuns  at  Novo  Dievotche.  They  were  permitted  to  live  in  one 
of  the  houses  inside  the  huge  red  wall  surrounding  the  convent 
enclosure,  which  shelters  five  churches,  a  tall  bell  tower,  and 
a  number  of  buildings  formerly  used  by  the  nuns,  lay  sisters, 
and  boarding  pupils. 

The  mother  superior,  about  twenty  nuns  and  as  many  lay 
sisters  still  occupied  the  building  formerly  reserved  for  the  lay 
sisters  only.  I  had  tea  with  one  of  the  nuns  in  her  little  room, 
which  was  spotlessly  clean.  She  gave  us  delicious  tea,  made 
on  a  beautiful  old  brass  samovar,  and  apologized  for  not  being 
able  to  offer  us  anything  but  her  scanty  supply  of  black  bread, 
which  we  refused  to  eat,  for  we  had  brought  our  own  bread, 
and  sugar,  which  we  shared  with  her,  for  she  had  none.  She 
was  a  sweet-faced,  gentle-voiced  woman,  utterly  resigned  to 
her  fate,  utterly  uncomprehending  of  the  great  movement  that 
had  swept  away  her  world,  and  she  lived  on  a  bit  bewildered 
by  all  the  changes,  clinging  instinctively  to  the  shelter  of  the 
familiar  walls,  her  long  black  robe  and  medieval  headdress. 
She  told  me  that  the  nuns  were  given  their  quarters  free  by  the 
Soviet  Government,  that  they  were  quite  unmolested  and  had 
excellent  relations  with  the  working  people  who  occupied  the 
rest  of  the  convent  buildings,  but  that  they  received  no  food, 
fuel  or  clothing  rations,  and  were  debarred  from  work  in  all 
government  offices  or  institutions.  She  particularly  regretted 
being  cut  off  from  work  among  the  children  whom  she  loved. 
The  nuns  supported  themselves,  she  said,  by  going  out  for  the 
day  as  domestic  servants  or  seamstresses,  and  doing  fine  needle- 
work, making  underclothes  and  summer  dresses  for  the  wives 
of  the  rich  commissars.  Their  former  pupils  brought  them 
donations  of  money  and  food  and  thus  they  managed  to  get 
along,  living  from  hand  to  mouth. 

In  the  cathedral  of  the  convent  I  found  all  the  treasures, 
including  the  famous,  reputedly  miraculous  image  of  the  Vir- 
gin of  Smolensk,  absolutely  intact,  altliough  they  represented 
many  thousands  of  dollars  in  value.    The  Virgin  of  Smolensk 


136  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

is  a  typical  Byzantine  madonna  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and 
she  is  fairly  engulfed  in  an  enormous  headdress  of  gold  wire 
strung  with  pearls  in  an  intricate  lace  pattern,  studded  with 
huge  emeralds,  diamonds,  rubies  and  other  precious  stones.  In 
the  same  church  are  other  ikons  of  almost  equal  value,  and  over 
the  tombs  of  many  of  the  Czaritzas,  including  the  wife  and 
two  sisters  of  Peter  the  Great,  are  still  hung  their  personal 
ikons,  which  they  used  during  their  lives,  several  of  them  ex- 
quisitely painted  and  set  in  frames  studded  with  precious  stones 
or  enriched  with  the  wonderful  old  Russian  enamels.  I  have 
often  heard  it  said  that  many  of  the  stones  in  the  ikons  are 
imitation,  having  been  replaced  years  ago  by  unscrupulous 
priests.  How  true  this  is  I  do  not  know ;  perhaps  the  Bolsheviks 
do ;  but  I  saw  many  superb  vessels  which  were  evidently  of  real 
silver  or  gold  and  which  had  not  been  touched. 

Among  the  ecclesiastics  in  general  in  Moscow  I  found 
many  interesting  tendencies,  for  there  is  now,  as  always,  a 
great  latitude  of  opinion  among  the  higher  clergy.  Bishop 
Turkestanov,  one  of  the  most  eloquent  preachers  in  the  Ortho- 
dox Church,  was  very  fearless  in  his  upholding  of  the  old 
order  and  his  denunciation  of  the  existing  regime.  Bishop 
Vamava,  an  equally  well  known  prince  of  the  church,  had  de- 
clared himself  to  be  a  Christian  Communist  and  it  was  whis- 
pered by  many  people  that  he  was  an  agent  of  the  much  dread- 
ed Checka.  An  Archimandrite  whom  I  met.  Father  Arsene 
by  name,  consoled  himself  with  metaphysical  speculations  and 
the  writing  of  erotic  verse,  which  he  read  to  me  with  great 
gusto.  Other  priests  were  deeply  interested  in  theosophy  and 
spiritualism,  which,  in  Russia,  as  in  other  war-ridden  coun- 
tries, has  taken  a  great  hold  on  the  popular  imagination. 

The  Catholic  church  is  also  quite  strong  in  Russia.  Acting 
on  instructions  from  Rome,  the  Catholic  clergy  have  taken  no 
part  in  any  political  activities  or  preached  against  Bolshevism, 
and  they  are  allowed  to  work  undisturbed.  In  Minsk,  Vitebsk 
and  in  Western  Russia  I  found  the  Uniats,  who  are  very  close 
to  the  Catholic  church,  were  steadily  but  quietly  enlarging  their 
membership.  There  were  three  Catholic  churches  in  Moscow, 
all  Polish,  but  in  spite  of  this  disadvantage,  during  the  days  of 


IKONS  AND  ANTI-CHRIST  137 

the  Polish  offensive  they  managed  to  keep  open  and  escape 
any  suspicion  of  political  activity.  I  knev^  the  Polish  priest 
of  the  largest  church,  in  the  Mali  Lubianka  within  a  stone's 
throw  of  the  prison  of  the  Checka,  very  well.  He  was  a  delight- 
ful man,  a  hopeless  invalid,  and  a  great  philosopher.  As  a 
Pole  he  deplored  the  Polish  offensive  as  a  source  of  great  in- 
ternal danger  to  Poland  through  the  embarking  on  a  militaristic 
policy,  which  he  believed  would  sooner  or  later  lead  to  revo- 
lution, and  as  the  cause  of  a  reinforcement  of  Bolshevik  morale 
by  the  creation  of  intense  national  feeling.  There  was  also  a 
small  Russian  Catholic  group  in  Moscow  in  which  I  was  much 
interested.  It  was  headed  by  Father  Vladimir,  one  of  the 
Abrikosovs  who  were  among  the  fabulously  rich  merchants  of 
old  Russia.  His  followers,  several  hundred  in  number,  were 
known  as  the  Abrikosi,  and  went  back  in  their  observances  to 
the  early  days  of  the  Catholic  church,  following  the  liturgy  of 
the  Christian  martyrs  and  practicing  an  extreme  asceticism. 

Starting  from  Galicia,  in  the  days  of  Petlura,  the  Catholic 
church  began  an  active  propaganda  in  the  Ukraine  which  was 
productive  of  great  results  and  has  not  entirely  ceased  at  the 
present  time.  That  the  Bolsheviks  still  fear  this  propaganda 
was  shown  by  the  publication  last  summer  of  documents 
alleged  to  have  been  discovered  in  the  Ukraine  by  agents  of 
the  Extraordinary  Commission,  disclosing  the  existence  of  a 
secret  agreement  between  the  Pope  and  Petlura.  The  story 
was  as  follows : 

During  the  war  the  Vatican  was  said  to  have  loaned  con- 
siderable sums  of  money  to  the  Italian  Government,  which  the 
latter  was  unable  to  pay  at  its  close,  turning  over  instead  to 
His  Holiness  a  large  quantity  of  leftover  munitions.  Count 
Tuskievitch,  then  emissary  of  Petlura  to  Rome,  offered  to 
take  them  off  the  Pope's  hands.  He  agreed,  stipulating  for 
compensation  to  the  Catholic  church  for  losses  sustained  in 
the  Ukraine  during  the  Civil  War,  the  creation  of  an  Ukrainian 
cardinalate  and  the  right  to  conduct  Catholic  propaganda,  in 
addition  to  a  cash  sum.  Part  payment  was  made,  and  some 
munitions  were  delivered  to  Petlura,  but  the  contract  was  never 


138  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

fulfilled  in  its  entirety  owing  to  the  fact  that  Petlura  was 
defeated  and  driven  out  into  Poland. 

Next  to  the  Catholics,  the  Baptists  have  made  more  prog- 
ress than  any  other  sect  in  Russia  during  the  past  few  years. 
They  are  very  strong  in  the  neighborhood  of  Saratov  and  gen- 
erally in  Southeastern  Russia,  and  there  are  still  numbers  of 
Old  Believers  among  the  Don  Cossacks.  There  are  also  evan- 
gelistic movements  in  Moscow  and  Petrograd  and  other  parts 
of  the  country,  but  these  are  regarded  as  counter-revolutionary. 
A  Christian  brotherhood  organized  in  Petrograd  by  a  former 
professor  whose  name  I  do  not  recall  at  the  moment,  was  dis- 
solved by  the  Checka  last  summer,  its  leader  and  a  number  of 
members  put  into  jail,  and  I  myself  was  recently  in  prison 
with  members  of  the  Russian  branch  of  the  Salvation  Army. 

Added  to  all  these  denominational  movements  there  is  the 
inexorable  tie  of  habit  and  tradition  which  binds  the  great  mass 
of  the  peasants  to  their  religion,  the  Russian  temperament, 
idealistic  and  mystical,  which  holds  the  better  educated  in  the 
spell  of  various  fanatical  movements,  the  old  love  of  the  super- 
natural which  is  as  strong  in  human  nature  as  ever.  The  peas- 
ants have  clung  to  many  of  their  ancient  superstitions  and  leg- 
ends, particularly  the  one  about  the  coming  of  the  Anti-Christ, 
and  many  of  them  believe  that  he  is  Trotzki.  At  times  all 
Moscow  is  vibrating  with  rumors  of  mysterious  signs  and  por- 
tents seen  in  the  heavens.  Last  August  the  people  were  all 
agog  over  a  flaming  crown  said  to  have  rested  over  the  church 
on  the  Pokrovka,  where  the  Empress  Elizabeth  was  married. 
They  declared  that  it  was  a  sign  that  the  monarchy  would  be 
miraculously  restored. 

Then  there  is  the  great  new  religion  of  Communism,  for 
to  its  sincere  and  devoted  followers  it  is  a  religion  for  which 
they  are  just  as  willing  to  sacrifice  themselves  and  their  neigh- 
bors as  the  Raskolniki  in  the  days  of  Peter  the  Great,  who  im- 
molated themselves  and  their  families  in  great  auto  da  fes, 
hundreds  at  a  time,  the  willing  sacrificed  with  the  unwilling 
victims.  The  propaganda  of  Communism  as  a  faith  has  its 
appeal  to  the  young  and  imaginative,  as  well  as  to  the  more 
mature  idealists  and  the  fanatics  of  Marxism.    There  are  many 


IKONS  AND  ANTI-CHRIST  139 

people  who  take  a  fierce  delight  in  the  renunciation  of  their 
individual  freedom  for  the  collective  good,  and  there  are  many 
features  of  the  Communistic  doctrine  which,  when  studied 
from  this  angle,  have  a  tremendous  appeal. 

These  dreamers  of  a  new  social  order  based  on  the  religion 
of  Marxism  are  inevitably  doomed,  in  my  opinion,  to  failure, 
for  economic  and  political  reasons  as  well  as  from  the  fact  that 
the  vast  majority  of  members  of  their  own  party  are  not  actu- 
ated by  any  such  altruistic  motives.  They  are  having  great 
success,  however,  in  the  organization  of  the  Communist  youth, 
boys  and  girls  of  the  working  classes,  who  do  not  see  the  prac- 
tical failure  of  Communism,  who  are  at  the  age  which  hopes 
and  believes  all  things.  It  will  be  interesting  to  see  what  fruit 
the  purely  spiritual  and  intellectual  side  of  Communism  pro- 
duces in  the  next  generation. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
RADICAL  ANTI-REDS 

At  about  this  time  I  began  to  make  the  acquaintance  of 
members  of  some  of  the  opposition  poHtical  parties,  among 
which  were  the  Mensheviks  and  the  Anarchists.  Both  of  these 
groups  had  a  semi-legal  status,  held  meetings  and  had  their 
headquarters,  the  former  having  a  club  on  the  Miasnitskaya, 
the  latter  on  the  Tverskaya.  At  the  Mensheviks'  club  I  met 
both  the  leaders,  Martov  and  Abramovitz,  who  have  now  taken 
refuge  in  Germany.  They,  being  like  the  Bolsheviki,  Social 
Democrats,  were  anxious  to  cooperate  with  the  Soviet  Govern- 
ment, but  differed  radically  from  the  Communists  on  the 
question  of  the  status  of  the  trades  unions,  and  were  opposed 
to  Trotzki's  policy  of  the  militarization  of  labor.  I  had  great 
trouble  in  hunting  them  out,  for  they  were  under  suspicion 
even  at  that  time,  and  my  visit  to  the  club,  together  with  those 
to  Tchertkov  and  the  Anarchists,  were  known  and  noted 
against  me  though  I  was  not  conscious  of  it  at  the  time. 

The  Anarchists  held  open  meetings  every  Sunday,  and 
were  allowed  to  preach  their  doctrines  undisturbed,  though  to 
tell  the  truth,  at  their  meetings  there  was  at  least  one  Checkist 
to  every  Anarchist  or  impartial  listener,  and  they  held  debates 
with  corresponding  prudence  and  due  realization  of  this  fact. 
The  Anarchists  were  divided  into  two  groups,  the  Communist 
Anarchists,  who  believed  that  Communism  was  a  necessary 
stage  in  the  evolution  of  anarchism,  and  those  who  wished  at 
once  to  abolish  all  government.  Numbers  of  them  had  already 
been  arrested,  and  during  my  own  term  of  imprisonment  a 
general  roundup  of  all  Anarchists  was  made  by  the  govern- 
ment. The  Anarchists  were  a  rather  faddy  lot,  one  of  their 
pet  schemes  being  the  launching  of  a  new  universal  language 
which  they  claimed  to  be  far  superior  to  Esperanto,  and  in 
which  letters  were  replaced  by  numbers. 

140 


RADICAL  ANTI-REDS  141 

They  also  ran  a  restaurant  on  the  Tverskaya,  open  to  the 
public,  where  a  very  good  meal  could  be  had  for  thirty-five 
roubles,  astonishingly  cheap  for  Moscow.  Undoubtedly  many 
of  their  supplies  were  purloined  from  Soviet  stores,  for  they 
claimed  the  right  to  rob  the  government,  whose  authority  they 
did  not  recognize. 

It  was  at  about  this  time  that  large  numbers  of  deported 
American  Anarchists  began  to  arrive  in  Russia.  They  were 
not  by  any  means  welcome  visitors.  Many  of  them  were  to 
all  intents  and  purposes  Americans,  having  left  Russia  as  small 
children,  and  did  not  speak  a  word  of  the  language.  Some  of 
them  had  left  their  families  behind  in  the  United  States,  others 
found  absolutely  no  trace  of  their  relatives  whom  they  had  left 
in  Russia  many  years  before;  nearly  all  were  very  poor,  and 
found  great  difficulty  in  obtaining  work.  They  soon  became 
bitterly  disillusioned  about  the  Soviet  Government,  and  the 
Russians  themselves  were  not  unnaturally  indignant  at  having 
a  lot  of  what  they  were  pleased  to  term  foreigners,  radically 
disagreeing  from  them  politically,  dumped  down  in  their  midst. 
Emma  Goldman  and  Alexander  Berkmann,  who  arrived  at  the 
same  time,  and  who  commanded  almost  universal  respect  on 
account  of  their  personal  character  and  intellectual  attainments, 
established  a  sort  of  unofficial  employment  bureau  for  these 
poor  people  and  formed  as  a  nucleus  to  hold  them  together  a 
society  called  "The  Russian  Friends  of  American  Freedom." 
They  had  interviews  with  Lenin  on  the  subject,  and  hoped  to 
be  able  to  form  a  powerful  organization  of  Russians  with  ties 
connecting  them  with  America  to  help  promote  revolutionary 
doctrine  in  the  United  States,  but  as  it  was  sponsored  chiefly 
by  Anarchists  Lenin  did  not  look  on  it  with  any  great  degree 
of  favor  and  the  project  was,  I  believe,  eventually  dropped. 

I  saw  a  great  deal  of  Emma  Goldman  and  Berkmann  dur- 
ing their  stay  in  Moscow.  Berkmann  lived  at  my  guest  house 
and  for  several  weeks  had  the  room  next  to  mine.  He  is  a 
quiet  little  man  with  a  big  domed  forehead  brought  more  into 
prominence  by  his  baldness,  with  kindly,  somewhat  near-sight- 
ed gray-green  eyes,  rather  owlish  in  expression  behind  his  huge 
horn-rimmed    spectacles.      Long    imprisonment    and    much 


142  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

thought  have  given  his  anarchism  a  rather  speculative,  theoret- 
ical character,  and  he  is  by  nature  a  gentle,  exceedingly  sweet- 
tempered  person.  Knowing  him  as  I  do  I  cannot  imagine  him 
trying  to  blow  up  Mr.  Frick  or  anyone  else  with  bombs.  I 
think  the  two  subjects  on  which  he  feels  most  strongly  are  the 
prison  system  in  general  as  a  form  of  punishment,  and  mili- 
tarism. For  these  reasons,  whatever  he  might  see  of  good  in 
the  Soviet  Government  was  overbalanced  by  his  horror  of  the 
Checka  and  the  Red  Army.  He  told  me  many  stories  of  the 
men  he  had  seen  turned  into  enemies  of  the  human  race  by  im- 
prisonment, and  he  regarded  death  as  a  much  more  humane 
form  of  punishment.  He  admitted  that  until  society  reached 
an  ideally  altruistic  state  it  would  be  perhaps  necessary  to  keep 
some  individuals  under  restraint  in  reformatory  colonies,  or 
under  treatment  for  mental  abnormalities  not  clearly  under- 
stood at  present,  and  of  which  he  believed  much  more  ex- 
haustive study  should  be  made.  He  also  felt  that  in  an  an- 
archistic state  where  individualism  was  given  full  rein,  and 
people  were  directly  interdependent,  this  sense  of  social  respon- 
sibility would  develop  much  more  rapidly  than  is  possible 
under  any  present  system  of  government.  We  had  long 
conversations  on  these  subjects,  and  he  told  me  many  stories 
of  his  life  in  the  Atlanta  penitentiary.  In  all  he  has  spent 
twenty-five  years  in  prison,  but  it  has  not  destroyed  his 
interest  in  life  or  influenced  his  point  of  view.  In  his  judg- 
ments of  individuals  he  is  exceedingly  charitable,  though 
sweeping  in  his  condemnation  of  man-made  systems.  We  also 
had  long  chats  about  literature,  art  and  music,  in  which  he  has 
very  good  taste  and  a  fine  appreciative  faculty.  Long  years  of 
imprisonment  have  considerably  undermined  his  health,  and 
he  found  Moscow  fare,  black  bread  and  kasha,  very  trying. 

Finally,  his  digestive  troubles  culminated  in  a  very  severe 
attack  of  intestinal  disorder.  I  helped  Emma  Goldman  heat 
and  prepare  special  dishes  for  him  on  my  little  kerosene  stove, 
and  he  found  my  hot  water  bottle  very  useful.  I  often  won- 
dered what  my  conventional  American  friends  would  think  if 
they  could  see  me  sitting  by  the  hour  in  Berkmann's  bedroom 
administering  medicines  and  changing  hot  water  bottles.    If 


RADICAL  ANTI-REDS  143 

I  had  thought  about  him  at  home  at  all  I  had  always  pictured 
him  as  a  wild  man  with  a  bomb  in  one  hand  and  equally  ex- 
plosive literature  in  the  other.  As  a  matter  of  fact  I  found 
him  one  of  the  gentlest,  most  courteous  and  kindliest  individ- 
uals it  has  ever  been  my  pleasure  to  meet. 

I  liked  Emma,  too.  Honesty,  good  nature  and  a  delight- 
fully refreshing  sense  of  humor  are  her  salient  characteristics, 
mixed  with  a  keen  intelligence,  considerable  shrewdness  and 
great  executive  ability.  The  feeling  of  being  a  round  peg 
in  a  square  hole  wore  on  her  energetic  temperament.  She 
hated  her  enforced  idleness,  but  she  was  absolutely  unwilling 
to  go  into  any  sort  of  work  where  she  would  be  directly  or  in- 
directly supporting  Communist  policies.  She  spoke  Russian 
very  poorly  and  she  was  desperately  and  humanly  homesick  for 
America.  I  do  not  believe  for  one  instant  that  Emma  is  any 
the  less  a  sincere  anarchist  for  her  experience  in  Russia,  but 
I  believe  that  she  is  a  much  better  American.  I  am  not  sure 
even  that  she  is  in  her  heart  of  hearts  not  convinced  that  it  is 
not  such  a  simple  thing  to  bring  about  a  social  revolution  and 
that  it  would  not  be  well  to  make  haste  slowly  in  the  United 
States.  I  greatly  enjoyed  listening  to  her  apt  criticisms  of 
leading  personages,  whose  weak  spots  she  picked  out  unerr- 
ingly, and  her  efficient  scorn  of  the  loose  business  methods  and 
administrative  incapacity  of  the  Russians. 

After  oscillating  restlessly  between  Moscow  and  Petrograd 
for  some  time,  "looking  over  the  field,"  as  Emma  expressed 
it,  she  and  Berkmann  finally  found  a  job  into  which  they  could 
enter  whole-heartedly — collecting  material  for  a  historical  mu- 
seum of  the  revolution.  They  were  given  a  private  car,  with 
a  Red  Soldier  as  an  attendant,  they  stocked  it  well  with  pro- 
visions, Emma,  who  is  an  excellent  cook  and  housekeeper, 
superintending  the  stocking  up;  and  they  started  off  for  the 
Ukraine  on  an  extended  tour,  on  part  of  which  they  were  ac- 
companied by  an  American  correspondent,  Henry  Alsberg, 
who  was  then  writing  for  the  London  Daily  Herald  and  col- 
lecting material  for  a  series  of  articles  in  an  American  weekly. 
It  was  a  source  of  wonder  to  us  that  Alsberg  was  able  to  take 
the  trip,  for  the  Ukraine  was  in  a  very  unsettled  state  at  that 


144  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

time,  as  indeed  it  is  still,  the  Polish  offensive  was  on,  and  no 
other  foreign  correspondents  were  permitted  to  travel  in  that 
part  of  Russia.  The  Foreign  Office  insisted  that  he  had  gone 
without  permission,  the  Checka  outwardly  raged  and  swore 
that  Alsberg  had  been  detained  in  Kharkov,  but  as  a  matter  of 
fact  this  was  camouflage  to  appease  the  other  correspondents, 
who  did  not  have  Alsberg's  pull.  He  traveled  over  a  large  part 
of  the  Ukraine  tranquilly  and  quite  unmolested,  returning  to 
Moscow  in  his  own  good  time  many  weeks  later. 

There  was  another  class  of  individuals,  many  of  whom 
would  be  ranked  as  radicals  at  home,  but  who  were,  for  the 
most  part,  beginning  to  turn  against  the  Soviet  Government — 
the  Jews. 

That  the  Jews  helped  to  make  the  Russian  Revolution  is  a 
fact  too  well  known  to  need  comment;  that  they  reaped  great 
immediate  advantages  from  it  is  undoubtedly  true ;  that  many 
of  the  men  who  are  leading  forces  in  the  political  and  economic 
life  of  Soviet  Russia  are  Jews  is  unquestionable,  and  these  facts 
have  given  rise  to  the  general  impression  outside  of  Russia 
that  Bolshevism  is  a  movement  sponsored  by  the  great  mass 
of  the  Jewish  population.  As  a  matter  of  fact  the  great  masses 
of  the  Jewish  population  have  gotten  less  out  of  the  Revolu- 
tion than  any  other  race  or  class ;  they  have  been  crushed,  so 
to  speak,  between  the  upper  and  nether  millstones  of  revolution 
and  reaction.  The  majority  of  them,  barring  the  fact  that 
they  dread  counter-revolution  on  account  of  the  inevitable 
pogroms  which  would  accompany  it,  would  be  glad  to  see  the 
overthrow  of  the  Communist  dictatorship  in  Russia. 

The  immediate  result  of  the  Revolution  had  been  to  re- 
move the  many  disabilities  of  the  Jews.  For  the  first  time  in 
history  the  Russian  Jew  was  a  free  citizen  with  all  rights  and 
privileges.  The  Revolution  also  at  first  brought  many  mate- 
rial advantages  to  the  Jews.  In  the  general  demoralization 
and  disintegration  of  the  bourgeoisie  the  old  official  class  was 
dispossessed  and  scattered.  Many  were  executed,  others  joined 
the  counter-revolutionary  armies  or  escaped  while  there  was 
yet  a  chance  beyond  the  frontier.  Many  of  those  who  were  left 
refused  to  work  for  the  new  government  or  practiced  sabotage. 


RADICAL  ANTI-REDS  145 

Among  the  class-conscious  Russian  proletariat  which  had 
taken  part  in  the  revolutionary  movement  there  were  few  men 
with  the  education  or  training  to  occupy  executive  or  admin- 
istrative positions.  The  Jews,  as  a  race,  in  spite  of  their  many 
handicaps,  were  better  fitted  for  such  positions  than  their  Rus- 
sian co-revolutionists.  Nearly  all  of  them  were  from  the  mer- 
chant or  small  trader  class,  and  had  a  fairly  good  education. 
The  percentage  of  literacy  was  much  higher  among  them  than 
among  Gentiles  of  the  corresponding  class.  They  had  never 
owned  land,  and  in  the  distribution  of  land  among  the  peasants 
they  had  no  share.  They  were  reaping  their  harvest  from  the 
revolution  in  clerkships  and  administrative  and  executive 
offices. 

As  far  as  Petrograd,  Moscow  and  the  large  cities  were 
concerned,  they  fared  well.  Thousands  of  them  were  taken 
into  the  many  departments  of  the  Commissariats,  primarily 
because  of  their  fitness  for  such  positions.  In  the  provinces 
this  was  also  true  to  a  certain  extent,  but  as  the  Soviet  machin- 
ery there  was  not  so  complicated  and  did  not  require  such  a 
large  number  of  paid  workmen  the  majority  were  left  without 
employment.  The  Red  Army  absorbed  some  of  them,  largely 
in  its  sanitary  service,  for  the  Jews  as  a  race  do  not  take 
more  kindly  to  military  service  in  Russia  than  in  any  other 
country. 

But  many,  in  the  sections  where  there  was  a  large  Jewish 
population,  were  left  without  resources  or  employment.  They 
were  not  trained  as  industrial  workers — even  if  they  had  been 
the  constantly  decreasing  factory  production  owing  to  the 
economic  ruin  produced  by  the  Great  War,  the  Civil  War  and 
the  blockade  gave  them  few  opportunities  in  this  field;  they 
were  town  dwellers,  and  had  not  profited  from  the  distribution 
of  the  land. 

At  first  they  did  not  feel  their  position.  True,  their  little 
shops  were  closed,  their  supplies  requisitioned,  but  long  years 
of  persecution  had  taught  them  how  to  evade  the  law,  conceal 
their  goods  and  practice  illicit  trade.  They  did  a  flourishing 
underground  business,  practiced  contraband  and  smuggling 
very  successfully,  and  lived  well  for  a  time.    Then  as  the  cen- 


146  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

tral  government  became  better  organized,  decrees  against  spec- 
ulation were  more  rigidly  enforced,  numbers  of  the  Jews  were 
arrested  and  severely  punished,  in  many  cases  getting  the 
death  penalty.  Others  became  frightened,  gave  up  their  illicit 
occupations,  or  exhausted  their  reserve  supplies,  and  then  be- 
gan a  period  of  misery  and  privation  for  the  provincial  Jewish 
population.  Many  were  over  age,  entitled  to  receive  workers' 
pensions,  but  this  branch  of  the  Soviet  Government  has  never 
been  well  organized  and  the  destitution  among  old  people  all 
over  Russia  is  very  great.  Others,  as  I  said  before,  were  un- 
able to  find  employment  in  their  provincial  towns  and  drifted 
involuntarily  into  the  status  of  nonworkers  without  the  right 
to  draw  food  rations. 

In  Moscow  I  found  many  Jews  occupying  important 
political  positions,  but  in  positions  of  greatest  authority  Jews 
were  not  in  the  majority  by  any  means,  although  they  pre- 
ponderated in  many  of  the  executive  offices  of  the  Soviet 
Government. 

Among  the  People's  Commissars,  seventeen  in  number, 
there  were  actually  very  few  Jews,  Trotzki  being  the  only  one 
among  those  I  met,  about  whom  there  can  be  no  question. 
Zinoviev,  chairman  of  the  Executive  Committee  of  the  Third 
International,  is  a  Jew,  and  I  believe  that  Jews  are  well  repre- 
sented on  the  committee.  On  the  other  hand,  the  predominant 
influence  in  the  All- Russian  Council  of  Trades  Unions  is  not 
Jewish  by  any  means.  Among  the  Communist  publicists, 
Steklov,  editor  of  the  Isvestia,  the  organ  of  the  Central  Execu- 
tive Committee,  is  not  a  Jew,  while  the  editorial  staff  of  Eco- 
nomic Life,  the  fairest  paper  published  in  Russia  at  the  present 
time,  is  composed  largely  of  Jews. 

The  Jews  registered  as  members  of  the  Communist  party 
and  occupying  responsible  administrative  positions  were,  in 
many  instances,  rank  opportunists.  There  was  a  far  greater 
proportion  of  sincere  Communists  among  the  real  Russians. 
There  were  many  hundreds  of  Jews  among  the  "Bez  Partini," 
nonparty  members,  belonging  to  the  class  of  intellectuals  or 
professional  men  who  were  content  to  devote  themselves  to 
purely  educational  or  executive  work,  and  who  were  at  heart 


RADICAL  ANTI-REDS  147 

violently  opposed  for  the  most  part  to  the  dictatorship  of  the 
Communist  party. 

In  the  opposition  Socialist  parties,  such  as  the  Mensheviks, 
Right  and  Left  Social  Revolutionaries,  and  even  the  Anar- 
chists, I  found  an  ever-increasing  number  of  Jewish  members. 
This  was  especially  interesting  as  regards  the  Right  Social 
Revolutionaries.  The  Social  Revolutionary  party  is  essentially 
a  peasants'  party,  and  until  a  short  time  ago  it  had  practically 
no  Jewish  members.  At  present  it  has  many  hundreds.  They 
are  purposely  holding  back,  refusing  to  take  any  prominent 
part  in  the  party  councils,  because,  as  one  of  them  who  was 
imprisoned  with  me  said,  "There  is  such  a  prejudice  against 
Jews  in  general  in  Russia  that  we  feel  we  would  do  more 
harm  than  good  by  openly  occupying  important  positions  in 
the  party." 

Among  my  fellow-prisoners  was  a  woman  who  had  been 
one  of  the  directors  of  a  Jewish  Cooperative  Artel  at  Smol- 
ensk, one  of  a  number  which  have  been  organized  by  Jews 
throughout  Russia  to  give  work  to  their  co-nationalists.  This 
organization  was  so  successfully  managed  that  it  executed 
large  contracts  for  the  Soviet  Government,  and  although  in 
size  it  was  far  beyond  the  limit  of  fifty  individuals  prescribed 
for  cooperative  industrial  enterprises,  it  was  left  undisturbed 
for  some  time.  Finally,  after  several  unsuccessful  attempts 
to  nationalize  the  industry,  charges  of  counter-revolution  were 
made  against  some  of  its  leading  members,  they  were  arrested, 
and  sent  to  Moscow.  I  was  also  in  prison  with  a  number  of 
Jewish  women  arrested  for  membership  in  the  above-named 
political  parties,  and  with  several  members  of  the  insurgent 
faction  of  the  Bund,  a  Socialist  organization  composed  entirely 
of  Jewish  members,  which  this  year  split  into  two  factions, 
the  majority  refusing  to  subscribe  to  the  Third  International, 
the  minority  going  over  to  the  Communists. 

The  only  Jewish  political  organization  as  such,  which  is 
preponderantly  sympathetic  to  Bolshevism,  is  the  Poalei  Zion, 
a  league  of  industrial  and  factory  workers.  The  Zionists  are 
regarded  as  rank  counter-revolutionaries.  At  their  annual 
convention  in  Moscow  last  year  the  entire  body,  consisting  of 


148  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

one  hundred  and  twenty-five  delegates,  was  arrested  and  put 
in  prison  for  several  weeks. 

A  significant  illustration  of  the  state  of  the  public  opinion 
with  regard  to  Jews  was  shown  by  the  reception  given  a  vaude- 
ville act  at  the  Nikitskaya  theater  last  summer.  It  was  a  skit 
in  which  a  Red  and  a  White  officer  come  out  on  the  stage  and 
engage  in  a  rough  and  tumble  fight  for  the  possession  of  the 
throne  at  the  back  of  the  scene.  After  the  Red  officer  has 
given  the  Monarchist  a  good  licking,  he  turns  around  to  take 
his  seat  on  the  throne  and  finds  perched  on  it  a  little  Jew  who 
has  sneaked  in  meanwhile  and  taken  his  seat  there.  Jibes,  cat- 
calls and  inelegant,  if  forcible,  remarks  from  the  audience 
with  regard  to  the  Jewish  gentleman  were  allowed  to  go  un- 
challenged by  the  police  authorities. 

There  is  a  Jewish  branch  of  the  Commissariat  of  Nation- 
alities in  Moscow  where  Jewish  affairs  are  handled  as  those  of 
a  separate  race,  just  as  those  of  the  Tartars,  Cossacks,  the 
German  communities,  the  Ukrainians  and  other  nationalities 
within  the  Federative  Republic.  The  attitude  of  the  Soviet 
government  is  just  as  hostile  to  Jewish  as  to  Russian  Ortho- 
doxy in  matters  of  religion. 

The  facts  I  have  cited  above  are,  I  think,  sufficient  in  them- 
selves to  justify  my  belief  that  Jews  as  such  play  no  great 
role  in  the  Soviet  Government  at  the  present  time.  That  the 
Jews  had  an  important  part  in  bringing  about  the  Revolution 
is  undoubtedly  true ;  that  the  great  masses  of  the  Jewish  people 
in  Russia  have  not  reaped  the  advantages  they  hoped  for  from 
it  is  equally  true ;  and  it  is  also  a  fact  that  anti-Semitism,  per- 
haps at  times  unconscious,  is  directed  against  the  race-con- 
scious Jews  by  both  Jew  and  Gentile  Internationalists.  Added 
to  this  is  the  universal  detestation  of  the  Jews  by  the  peasant 
population,  who  still  do  not  feel  safe  from  Jewish  exploita- 
tion, and  attribute  all  the  evils  of  Bolshevism  to  the  Jews. 
Thus  the  Jews  are  getting  it  going  and  coming. 

The  explanation  of  their  part  in  the  Russian  Revolution  is 
self-evident.  As  long  as  there  was  a  question  of  doing  away 
with  Czarist  Imperialism  they  were  for  Bolshevism,  but  all 
their  inherited  instincts  and  training  are  against  the  Soviet 


RADICAL  ANTI-REDS  149 

economic  and  industrial  system,  as  are  their  religious  instincts 
deeply  grounded  in  the  patriarchal  or  family  system.  There 
are,  as  there  always  have  been,  iconoclastic  spirits  among  them 
running  counter  to  tradition,  others  whose  racial  pride  is  ap- 
pealed to  by  the  opportunity  to  exercise  widespread  political 
power  and  influence. 

Then  there  is  the  trader,  or  speculative  instinct  of  the  Jew, 
which  tells  him  that  there  is  always  the  chance  to  profit  through 
political  or  economic  crises.  Now  that  they  have  brought  about 
these  results  the  majority  of  the  educated  Jews  are  running 
true  to  their  innate  conservatism  and  to  the  same  iconoclastic 
instinct  which  has  always  placed  them  on  the  side  of  the  minor- 
ity. They  realize  that  the  political  unity  of  the  Jewish  race 
throughout  the  Diaspora,  as  they  term  the  Christian  world,  is 
not  to  be  maintained  by  the  merging  of  the  race-conscious  Jew 
in  the  Internationalist.  These  are  the  forces  that  are  pushing 
many  of  the  intelligent  Jews  back  along  the  road  away  from 
Communism.  The  Jewish  proletariat  at  large  has  failed  to 
gain  either  material  prosperity  or  spiritual  freedom  through 
Bolshevism,  and  will  probably  remain  aloof  and  passive,  hos- 
tile to  Communism  but  fearing  counter-revolution  in  Russia. 


CHAPTER  XV 
SOUKHAREVKA 

For  some  months  I  had  lived  almost  entirely  on  Soviet  ra- 
tions, but  I  began  after  a  time  to  feel  decidedly  undernourished. 
The  food  at  our  guest  house,  while  better  than  that  served 
in  the  average  Soviet  dining-rooms,  which  I  often  attended, 
was  not  sufificient.  At  that  time  it  was  estimated  that  the 
average  food  ration  in  Moscow  contained  only  approximately 
sixty  per  cent,  of  the  calories  necessary  for  the  human  organ- 
ism. Through  legal  means  nobody  except  those  receiving 
commissars,  academic  and  Red  Army  payok  obtained  anything 
like  the  requisite  amount  of  nourishment.  So,  like  everybody 
else  who  had  the  means,  except  a  few  absolutely  honest  and 
devoted  Communists,  I  began  to  patronize  the  markets  and 
the  illegal  restaurants.  Practically  everything  could  be  bought 
for  a  price  at  the  picturesque  stalls  on  the  Okhotny  Riad,  within 
a  stone's  throw  of  the  Foreign  Office,  in  the  Soukharevka  or 
the  Smolensky  market.  I  supplemented  my  rations  with  milk, 
fresh  eggs,  cream  cheese,  honey  and,  later,  delicious  fruits  and 
vegetables,  which  were  very  abundant.  I  always  had  permis- 
sion to  use  the  kitchen  in  the  guest  house  where  I  was  living, 
and  in  addition  I  had  my  "primus"  supplied  with  kerosene 
bought  illegally  for  five  hundred  roubles  a  quart.  I  was  often 
hostess  at  informal  supper  parties  and  frequently  had  my  Rus- 
sian friends  as  well  as  members  of  the  foreign  colony  to  din- 
ner or  tea. 

It  happened  that  I  needed  a  saucepan  in  which  to  do  my 
cooking  and  so,  in  order  to  find  out  just  how  the  Moscow 
housewife  does  her  shopping  through  legal  channels,  I  applied 
at  the  Moscow  food  administration  for  a  permit  to  buy  it 
through  the  Soviet  stores.  Upon  presentation  of  papers  prov- 
ing my  identity  and  my  right  to  live  in  Moscow  as  a  "corre- 

iso 


SOUKHAREVKA  151 

spondent  of  the  bourgeois  press,"  I  received  an  order  entitling 
me  to  purchase  a  saucepan.  This  order  was  countersigned  by- 
three  officials  in  the  Food  Administration,  the  process  taking 
an  entire  day. 

On  the  second  day  I  exchanged  it  for  an  order  permitting 
me  to  go  to  the  government  store  where  samples  were  on  ex- 
hibition and  pick  out  the  particular  kind  of  saucepan  I  desired. 
I  chose  it  by  number,  whereupon  I  received  another  coupon 
entitling  me  to  purchase  it  at  the  government  cooperative  in 
the  district  in  which  I  lived.  Then  I  had  to  ascertain  on  what 
day  saucepans  would  be  on  sale.  On  the  morning  of  that  day 
I  was  obliged  to  go  early  and  stand  in  line  until  the  shop  was 
opened  in  order  to  make  sure  that  all  the  saucepans  would  not 
be  sold  before  I  arrived.  The  entire  process  occupied  a  large 
part  of  my  time  for  a  whole  week,  but  the  saucepan  was  good 
and  cheap,  only  three  roubles.  Similar  ones  sold  on  the  Souk- 
harevka  for  two  thousand  five  hundred. 

It  was  a  wonderful  sight  to  see  the  crowds  on  the  Souk- 
harevka,  particularly  on  Sundays.  Everything  under  the  sun 
was  sold  in  the  wide  open  space  occupying  the  center  of  the 
boulevard  on  both  sides  of  the  beautiful  Soukharev  gate, 
which  was  built  by  Peter  the  Great  in  memory  of  one  of  the 
loyal  generals  during  the  revolt  of  the  Streltsi.  To  the  right 
was  the  general  market,  to  the  left  the  food  market.  The  wares 
were  classified  in  sections,  by  a  sort  of  unwritten  law.  At  the 
beginning  of  the  market,  in  long  lines  along  the  pavement, 
were  the  peddlers  with  small  miscellaneous  wares.  Then  came 
the  shoemakers  with  new  and  second-hand  shoes,  leather  and 
shoemakers'  materials.  There  were  always  numbers  of  Red 
soldiers  in  this  section,  holding  under  their  coats  and  offering 
surreptitiously  for  sale,  excellent  army  shoes  purloined  from 
the  commissary  stores. 

A  little  farther  on,  in  the  center,  were  vendors  of  house- 
hold linen,  blankets,  rugs,  underwear  and  miscellaneous  cloth- 
ing; to  the  extreme  right  the  household  furnishers  with  com- 
plete stocks  of  kitchen  utensils  in  tin,  aluminum,  copper  and 
enamel,  china  and  crockery.  Here  were  also  sold  workmen's 
tools,  most  of  them  stolen  from  the  government  tool  factories. 


152  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

On  the  left  was  the  furniture  section,  where  people  brought  in 
huge  drays  furniture  of  every  description — beds,  wardrobes, 
massive  sideboards,  rugs.  Often  superb  pieces  of  great  value 
were  offered  for  sale,  and  I  saw  Oriental  rugs  worth  small  for- 
tunes sold  for  a  few  thousands.  Interspersed  among  these 
gentry  were  the  antiquarians,  disposing  of  exquisite  old  porce- 
lains, bronzes  and  bibelots  of  all  descriptions;  then  came  the 
sections  where  women's  clothing  was  sold,  ball  gowns,  negli- 
gees, French  lingerie,  blouses,  street  costumes,  false  hair,  cos- 
metics, toilet  articles,  in  short,  everything  imaginable  for  femi- 
nine adornment. 

Many  of  the  people  who  did  business  in  the  Soukharevka 
were  professional  traders,  but  there  were  others,  members  of 
aristocratic  families,  wives  and  daughters  of  former  generals 
and  imperial  functionaries,  persons  belonging  to  the  intellectual 
class,  who  came  there  to  sell  their  last  possessions  in  order  to 
buy  bread.  Among  them  I  found  many  charming  people  and 
made  several  close  friends.  In  the  very  center  between  rows 
of  closed  booths  stood  the  vendors  of  gold  and  gems,  always 
furtive,  always  on  the  alert  for  spies  or  for  an  ahlai/a,  a  raid 
on  the  market,  for  while  the  sale  of  one's  old  belongings  was 
legalized,  traffic  of  this  sort  was  strictly  forbidden. 

There  was  also  considerable  mystery  about  the  section 
where  wool  and  cotton  goods  were  sold  by  the  yard.  Legally, 
anyone  had  the  right  to  dispose  of  three  arsheens,  an  arsheen 
being  a  little  over  three-quarters  of  a  yard,  but  larger  quanti- 
ties, frequently  purloined  from  government  stores,  were  con- 
stantly changing  hands.  Numerous  people  were  arrested,  but  it 
was  a  well-known  fact  that  many  of  the  officials  of  the  Moscow 
Checka  which  conducted  the  raids  could  be  "fixed"  if  vou 
knew  how.  I  knew  of  a  case  where  a  man  was  arrested  with 
thirty  arsheens  of  cloth  in  his  possession.  He  was  taken  off 
to  the  Checka. 

"How  many  arsheens  were  you  offering  for  sale?"  demand- 
ed tiie  examining  officer. 

"Three,"  he  answered  promptly,  with  a  wink  at  the  official. 

*Good,"  was  the  reply,  "you  may  have  your  three  arsheens 
bac»^"      Thereupon    he   received    his    liberty   and    his    three 


SOUKHAREVKA  153 

arsheens,  the  remaining  twenty-seven  resting  in  the  possession 
of  the  official. 

Everyone  was  not  so  lucky,  however.  In  an  apartment 
where  I  was  a  frequent  guest  a  workman  lived  with  his  wife 
and  three  small  children.  They  had  great  difficulty  in  making 
both  ends  meet  and  one  day,  when  the  husband  was  at  work  and 
the  children  at  school,  the  wife,  who  was  employed  for  only 
five  days  a  week  in  a  government  office,  decided  to  go  to  the 
market  to  sell  six  silver  spoons  which  had  been  part  of  her  little 
dowry.  She  never  came  back,  and  her  frantic  husband,  after 
repeated  efforts,  located  her  in  the  Moscow  Checka  three  weeks 
afterwards. 

The  section  of  the  Soukharevka  nearest  the  big  gate  was 
devoted  to  soap  and  cigarettes.  In  spite  of  the  universal  scar- 
city of  soap,  excellent  toilet  and  laundry  soap  in  enormous 
quantities  could  always  be  bought  there.  Much  of  it  was  home- 
made soap  brought  in  by  the  peasants,  but  much  was  also  from 
apparently  inexhaustible  hidden  stores  from  the  old  days.  I 
bought  there  French  soaps  of  well-known  makes.  The  traffic 
in  cigarettes  and  tobacco  was  most  of  it  perfectly  legal  and 
quite  natural.  All  Soviet  offices  give  out  cigarettes  to  their 
employees,  often  as  many  as  five  hundred  a  month,  to  smokers 
and  non-smokers  alike.  In  many  offices  tobacco,  of  which  they 
had  a  considerable  stock  on  hand,  was  given  out  as  part  of  the 
workers'  compensation  instead  of  the  more  necessary  food 
supplies  which  were  not  sufficient  to  go  around  in  all  depart- 
ments. I  knew  an  elderly  lady  who  was  employed  in  compiling 
weather  reports  in  the  Moscow  Meteorological  Observatory. 
She  received  three  thousand  five  hundred  roubles  a  month  and 
two  pounds  of  English  smoking  tobacco  which  represented  in 
value  between  seventy  and  eighty  thousand  roubles.  Natur- 
ally it  was  understood  that  she  would  dispose  of  it. 

In  the  food  market  the  peasants  were  allowed  to  dispose 
of  their  home-grown  produce  undisturbed,  and  bread  was 
openly  sold,  though  the  government  was  supposed  to  have  the 
bread  monopoly.  It  was  next  to  impossible  to  tell  what  was 
legally  placed  on  sale  by  persons  who  received  the  maximum 
allowance  of  two  pounds  a  day,  such  as  the  Red  Army  work- 
ers, and  those  who  made  it  with  flour  secured  through  under- 


154  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

ground  channels,  or  bread  stolen  from  the  government  bak- 
eries. Regulations  governing  the  sale  on  the  open  market  of 
all  these  things  were  constantly  being  changed.  One  week  it 
would  be  legal,  for  instance,  to  sell  meat,  two  weeks  after- 
wards there  would  be  a  decree  forbidding  the  sale  of  meat  and 
a  raid  would  be  made  on  all  meat  dealers.  It  w^as  the  same 
with  butter  and  many  other  things.  In  the  late  spring  the  mar- 
ket on  the  Okhotny  Riad  was  closed  and  the  booths  torn  down, 
but  the  Soukharevka  was  allowed  to  go  on  undisturbed.  Still 
later  all  the  small  stores  were  closed,  then  they  were  opened 
and  the  Soukharevka  closed.  Finally,  in  the  early  part  of 
March,  1921,  after  the  decree  permitting  free  trade,  markets, 
stores  and  street  booths  were  reopened  once  more.  The  policy 
of  the  government  with  regard  to  the  regulation  of  private 
trade  was  so  vacillating  that  no  one  knew  exactly  what  was 
legal  and  what  was  not. 

The  frequent  raids  on  the  Soukharevka  were  very  exciting, 
and  I  happened  to  be  in  several  of  them.  Often  they  were  di- 
rected against  a  particular  class  of  illegal  traders,  again  they 
were  for  the  purpose  of  rounding  up  deserters  or  for  catching 
the  suspicious  characters  without  a  permis  de  sejour,  who  al- 
ways abounded  in  Moscow.  You  could  almost  always  tell 
when  a  raid  was  about  to  take  place.  Warned  by  a  mysterious 
system  of  wireless  telegraphy,  sellers  and  buyers  alike  began 
to  grow  restless,  wares  were  gathered  up  in  bundles,  portable 
stands  were  dismounted,  their  owners  scuttling  down  side 
streets  and  vanishing  mysteriously  into  open  doorways.  Then 
a  panicky  movement  of  the  crowd  began,  the  more  timid  simply 
taking  to  their  heels  and  running.  Those  who  were  unlucky 
enough  not  to  make  a  quick  getaway  soon  found  all  exits 
blocked  by  militiamen,  who  examined  all  documents  and  looked 
into  all  packages.  Those  who  were  caught  with  illegal  mer- 
chandise or  who  were  unprovided  with  proper  documents  were 
herded  en  masse,  surrounded  by  a  cordon  of  militiamen,  and 
marched  off  to  the  Checka,  the  others  were  let  out  one  by  one. 
When  everything  was  over  sellers  and  buyers  began  to  re- 
assemble, cautiously  at  first,  then  more  boldly,  and  in  half  an 
hour  everything  was  in   full  swing  again.     The  militiamen 


SOUKHAREVKA  155 

were  as  a  rule  very  correct  in  handling-  the  crowd  and  I  never 
saw  any  brutality  or  violence.  The  hundreds  of  thieves  who 
always  haunted  the  market  usually  took  advantage  of  the  con- 
fusion to  help  themselves  and  made  rich  hauls.  Once  I  saw 
one  of  them  caught  in  the  act.  He  was  pursued  by  a  young 
militiaman  armed  with  a  rifle.  Failing  to  catch  up  with  his 
quarry,  he  lost  his  head  and  fired  into  the  crowd  after  the 
fugitive,  who  escaped,  but  one  innocent  bystander  was  killed 
and  two  wounded. 

The  rapidity  with  which  illicit  dealers  managed  to  dispose 
of  their  wares  when  warned  of  any  approaching  raid  was  posi- 
tively uncanny.  One  morning  I  wished  to  buy  a  pound  of 
butter.  There  was  plenty  of  fresh  country  butter  on  the  mar- 
ket, and  I  was  having  some  difficulty  in  making  a  choice.  Sud- 
denly word  went  around  that  government  inspectors  were  after 
the  butter  dealers.  In  five  minutes  there  was  not  a  pound  of 
butter  to  be  seen.  No  one  had  butter  for  sale,  no  one  ever 
heard  of  butter  being  on  the  market. 

The  peasants  who  came  to  town  with  country  produce 
were  often  very  picturesque.  I  never  tired  of  talking  to  them 
or  of  watching  their  primitive  arrangement  for  weighing  their 
wares  on  a  notched  stick  weighted  at  one  end.  Many  of  ihem 
were  enormously  rich,  in  fact,  not  being  able  to  count,  they 
did  not  know  how  much  money  they  actually  had.  A  friend 
of  mine  who  was  employed  in  the  Commissariat  of  Agricul- 
ture came  in  close  contact  with  peasants  of  this  class  who 
came  in  representing  their  local  Soviets  to  discuss  the  distri- 
bution of  seed  grain  and  other  matters. 

One  day  one  of  them  asked  her  to  come  down  and  spend 
the  week-end  in  his  village,  promising  to  give  her  comfort- 
able quarters,  milk,  eggs  and  good  country  food.  At  first  she 
refused,  but  finally  consented  on  being  promised  a  large  bas- 
ket of  eggs  and  several  pounds  of  honey  to  take  home.  When 
she  first  arrived  she  was  treated  as  an  honored  guest,  but  as 
she  knew  there  was  some  motive  for  their  invitation  she  wait- 
ed to  see  what  was  coming.  On  Sunday  morning  after  church 
she  found  out  the  real  object  of  the  invitation.  Several  of  the 
leading  peasants  came  to  see  her,  carrying  huge  sacks  stuffed 


156  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

with  what  was  apparently  waste  paper.  "Barischna,"  they 
said,  "we  have  a  great  deal  of  money.  No  one  in  the  village 
knows  how  much  he  has,  because  no  one  here  can  count  over 
ten  thousand  roubles.  Will  you  count  our  money  for  us?" 
She  counted  all  that  day  and  far  into  the  night.  Each  of  the 
peasants  had  at  least  several  millions. 

For  all  that  the  peasants  are  not  contented.  Their  money 
will  not  buy  them  any  of  the  things  they  most  need — agricul- 
tural implements,  tools,  nails,  rope,  harness,  substantial  boots 
and  clothing.  Consequently  they  are  either  hoarding  it  or  buy- 
ing useless  luxuries  such  as  bedroom  sets  of  walnut  and  ma- 
hogany, silver,  fine  china,  silk  gowns  and  jewelry  for  their 
wives,  bric-a-brac  and  graphophones. 

There  is  an  enormous  graphophone  section  on  the  Souk- 
harevka,  where  dozens  of  machines  and  thousands  of  records 
change  hands  every  week.  To  attract  attention  to  his  wares 
each  merchant  keeps  his  machine  going  full  blast,  and  the  med- 
ley of  popular  airs,  classic  selections,  comic  operas  and  rag- 
time is  maddening.  I  once  saw  a  rather  dramatic  incident  in 
this  connection.  One  man,  intentionally  or  unintentionally 
placed  on  his  machine  a  record  of  the  old  national  anthem, 
"God  Save  the  Czar."  As  the  first  bars  sounded  through  the 
crowd  the  effect  was  electric.  Everyone  within  hearing  stopped 
short.  Most  people  were  visibly  terrified,  a  few  openly  exult- 
ant, some  evidently  indignant,  but  all,  including  the  militiamen 
standing  near,  were,  for  the  moment,  paralyzed.  To  everyone 
present  the  familiar  air  brought  a  host  of  memories  and  recol- 
lections. The  first  person  to  recover  from  the  shock  was  an 
officer  in  the  uniform  of  the  Red  Army.  Walking  up  to  the 
merchant,  he  quietly  requested  him  to  stop  the  machine,  the 
crowd  drew  a  long  breath,  recovered  its  balance,  and  life  went 
on  as  usual. 

The  open  air  restaurants  on  the  Soukharevka,  and  there 
were  hundreds  of  them,  were  always  liberally  patronized,  in 
fact,  I  often  patronized  them  myself.  There  you  could  get 
white  rolls  with  butter,  beefsteaks,  more  often  horse  than  not, 
excellent  meat  cutlets,  hot  dogs,  periojki,  or  rolls  stuffed  with 
forcemeat  or  chopped  hardboiled  eggs,  tea,  coffee,  milk  by  the 


SOUKHAREVKA  157 

glass,  cakes  and  tarts  of  all  descriptions,  kasha,  varenetz,  which 
is  similar  to  our  junket ;  kisiel,  cran1>erry  juice  thickened  with 
potato  flour,  and  many  other  Russian  dishes.  Prices  ranged 
from  five  hundred  roubles  for  a  glass  of  tea  or  coffee  with 
a  white  roll  to  nine  hundred  roubles  for  a  piece  of  delectable 
pastry.  Beefsteak  or  cutlet  with  potatoes  was  from  five  hun- 
dred to  seven  hundred  and  fifty  roubles,  a  bowl  of  kasha  or 
mashed  potatoes  with  chopped  u])  carrots  and  onions  was  from 
a  hundred  to  two  hundred  and  fifty  roubles. 

At  the  illegal  restaurants,  which  were  chiefly  in  private 
houses  where  no  one  could  go  without  an  introduction  from  a 
patron,  delicious  dinners  were  served  at  prices  ranging  from 
three  to  five  thousand  roubles.  I  was  taken  to  one  of  these, 
of  which  later  I  became  an  habitue,  by  an  employee  of  the 
Foreign  Ofiice.  It  was  in  a  very  pretty  house  on  an  out-of-the- 
way  street.  The  hostess,  who  waited  on  us  herself,  assisted 
by  her  daughter  and  an  old  family  servant,  was  an  extremely 
elegant,  very  pretty  woman  of  a  distinguished  Georgian  fam- 
ily. Her  husband  was  a  trusted  employee  in  a  government 
office.  The  table  appointments  were  all  most  attractive;  we 
had  delicious  meals  and  most  congenial  company.  Dinner, 
which  was  served  from  three  until  five,  consisted  of  a  good 
vegetable  soup,  followed  by  roast  meat,  cutlets,  or  chicken, 
with  two  vegetables.  Real  coffee,  white  rolls,  cakes  and  tarts, 
of  which  she  always  had  a  great  variety,  and  ices  were  extra. 

Another  restaurant  to  which  I  often  went  was  frequented 
by  theatrical  people,  and  there  I  met  many  of  the  best  known 
artists  in  Moscow.  The  actors  were  also  allowed  to  run  a 
semi-legal  restaurant  not  far  away,  where  much  better  meals 
than  those  furnished  in  the  Soviet  dining-rooms  could  be  ob- 
tained at  moderate  prices.  In  June,  when  the  American  com- 
mittee from  the  Joint  Distribution  Committee  came  to  Mos- 
cow, I  often  went  with  one  of  its  three  members  to  an  excel- 
lent Jewish  restaurant  where  we  had  "gefiillte"  fish,  roast 
goose  with  apples  and  onions  and  other  Jewish  delicacies. 
Occasionally  these  places  were  raided,  their  owners  arrested 
and  their  supplies  confiscated,  but  others  were  always  spring- 
ing up  to  take  their  places. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
MOSCOW  FOYERS  AND  SALONS 

For  some  time  I  only  patronized  daytime  restaurants,  but 
I  soon  discovered  that  there  were  after-theater  restaurants 
where  you  could  get  coffee,  cakes  and  ices.  One  of  these  was 
the  "Domino,"  the  poets'  club  on  the  Tverskaya,  where  the 
new  poets  read  their  latest  effusions  nearly  every  evening  and 
there  were  long  debates  on  the  relative  merits  of  the  rather 
artificial  post-revolutionary  schools.  I  met  a  number  of  them, 
among  them  the  famous  Dieman  Biedni,  chief  exponent  of  the 
proletarian  poets,  who  are  a  direct  outcome  of  the  revolution 
and  represent  the  only  vital,  really  interesting  literary  move- 
ment in  Russia  at  the  present  time,  and  knew  Mayakovski,  a 
Futurist  and  poet  laureate  of  the  Red  Army.  All  these  men 
practice  poetry  on  the  side  as  it  were,  for  no  one  can  live  in 
Russia  by  being  merely  a  poet.  Biedni  is  employed  in  the 
Communist  propaganda  service.  He  is  a  bluff,  good-natured, 
wholesome  individual,  who  is  immensely  popular  with  the 
masses  and  makes  stirring  revolutionary  speeches.  Mayakov- 
ski is  a  Red  Army  officer.  Two  other  literary  friends  of  mine, 
Bobrov  and  Axionov,  were  employed,  respectively,  in  the  sta- 
tistical section  of  the  Commissariat  of  Posts  and  Telegraphs, 
and  in  the  Foreign  Office. 

Axionov,  who  was  official  host  at  our  guest  house  on  the 
Horitonevski,  was  frequently  assigned  the  task  of  personally 
conducting  foreign  visitors,  as  well  as  of  acting  as  intermedi- 
ary between  the  Checka  and  the  Foreign  Office  in  the  case  of 
the  arrest  of  foreign  subjects.  He  comes  of  an  old  and  very 
distinguished  Russian  family.  Before  the  Revolution  he  was 
an  officer  of  the  Imperial  Cavalry,  and  also,  I  have  heard  it 
rumored,  chief  at  one  time  of  the  Okhrana  or  secret  police  in 
Kiev.  He  later  served  as  an  officer  in  the  Red  Army  in  the 
Petlura  and  Denikin  campaigns.     He  is  a  poet  of  no  mean 

IS8 


MOSCOW  FOYERS  AND  SALONS     159 

ability,  lived  for  many  years  in  Paris,  is  a  connoisseur  of 
French  art  and  literature  with  fine  critical  perceptions,  and  a 
great  lover  of  Elizabethan  literature.  One  of  his  fads  is 
the  translation  of  Ben  Jonson,  on  which  he  was  busily  engaged 
when  I  first  made  his  acquaintance.  He  is  professedly  a  de- 
voted member  of  the  Communist  party,  and  the  real  object 
for  which  he  is  employed  is  to  keep  tab  on  all  foreigners,  re- 
porting their  exact  state  of  mind  and  their  attitude  towards  the 
Soviet  authorities. 

I  sometimes  went  with  him  to  the  concerts  of  the  Moscow 
Symphony  Orchestra,  which  has  kept  up  its  high  standard 
under  its  old  director,  Kousevitsky,  who  was  invited  to  take 
the  direction  of  the  Boston  Symphony  Orchestra  many  years 
ago.  At  present  he  is  directing  concerts  in  Europe,  getting  in 
touch  with  musicians  and  buying  music  for  the  use  of  the 
Conservatory  under  a  commandirovka  from  the  Soviet  Gov- 
ernment. Like  most  musicians  and  artists  he  has  carefully 
kept  out  of  politics.  The  concerts  at  the  Conservatory — and 
there  were  a  great  many  of  them — ^were  always  a  delight.  The 
programs  were  extremely  varied,  many  of  them  being  most  in- 
teresting in  character,  particularly  a  series  of  historical  con- 
certs of  Russian  music,  and  a  series  of  Scriabine  concerts  given 
on  the  occasion  of  the  fifth  anniversary  of  his  death.  With 
Axionov  I  also  attended  several  concerts  of  what  is  perhaps 
the  most  wonderful  chamber  music  cjuartette  in  the  world.  It 
is  composed  of  four  of  the  finest  musicians  in  Russia,  and  the 
instruments  are  all  Stradivari!  of  the  first  order,  taken  from 
private  collections.  The  tone  is  positively  luscious,  and  I  have 
never  heard  anything  more  beautiful  than  the  perfect  ensemble 
of  these  wonderful  instruments  in  the  hands  of  expert  musi- 
cians. Besides  these  concerts  there  were  many  interesting  re- 
citals at  the  Conservatory  and  elsewhere,  and  I  heard  several 
very  fine  choral  concerts  of  Russian  folk  music. 

I  also  attended  an  exhibition  of  the  new  school  of  Russian 
artists  which  has  developed  since  the  Revolution.  To  apply 
any  name  to  this  school  would  be  impossible;  its  protagonists 
are  not  Cubists,  Symbolists  or  Futurists,  but  wild  individual- 
ists, and  some  of  the  canvases  I  saw  at  their  salon  looked  to 


160  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

me  more  like  the  efforts  of  first  year  kindergarten  pupils  than 
anything  else. 

Amazing  conglomerations  of  the  colors  of  the  spectrum, 
applied  in  cubes,  half  moons,  circles  and  streaks,  were  sup- 
posed to  represent  the  Spirit  of  the  Revolution,  the  Genius  of 
Electricity,  the  Triumph  of  the  Proletariat,  or  portrait  im- 
pressions. There  was  one  clique  which  employed  as  a  medium 
only  black  on  white,  or  white  on  black;  another  which  pro- 
duced so-called  paintings  by  means  of  wiggly  lines  of  black 
varnish  on  a  dull  black  background.  Connoisseurs  of  the  new 
movement  professed  to  find  great  merit  in  these  extraordinary 
productions.  They  seemed  to  me  either  utterly  childish  or  mon- 
strously decadent.  The  vigorous  propaganda  posters  of  the 
Centro  Pechati,  the  government  printing  office,  and  the  Rosta 
cartoons  were  much  more  wholesome  and  interesting. 

It  was  the  same  with  regard  to  sculpture.  Most  of  the 
squares  in  Moscow  were  adorned  with  preposterous  statues  of 
Revolutionary  heroes  and  prophets  of  the  new  social  order, 
such  as  Lasalle,  Marx  and  Bakhounin;  in  the  Soviet  square 
was  an  obelisk  commemorating  the  October  Revolution.  The 
only  commendable  thing  about  these  productions  was  that  they 
were  modeled  in  plaster  or  coarse-grained  concrete,  owing  to 
the  impossibility  of  chiselling  or  casting  in  Russia  under  pres- 
ent conditions,  and  therefore  bound  to  crumble  within  a  com- 
paratively short  space  of  time. 

Most  of  the  good  artists  in  Russia  have  been  compelled 
from  necessity  to  give  up  purely  creative  work  and  go  into 
the  designing  of  posters  for  the  government.  For  this  they 
are  fairly  well  paid,  and  receive  all  their  materials  from  the 
government  stores,  as  well  as  ateliers  to  work  in,  but  many  of 
them,  who  cannot  adapt  themselves  to  this  work,  are  very  poor 
and  suffer  terrible  privations. 

The  same  thing  is  true  to  a  large  extent  of  the  poets  and 
authors.  The  government  spends  nearly  all  its  energies  on 
the  publication  of  propaganda  literature.  It  is  almost  impos- 
sible for  an  author  to  have  a  purely  imaginative  work  pub- 
lished, for  there  are  no  private  printing  presses,  and  paper  is 
very  scarce. 


MOSCOW  FOYERS  AND  SALONS     161 

The  Moscow  authors  have  a  club  on  the  Prechistenka, 
where  they  hold  frequent  meetings  and  read  selections  from 
their  works,  but  this  is  necessarily  before  a  very  limited  pub- 
lic. They  also  have  a  small  bookshop  of  their  own,  where  they 
sell  the  few  volumes  they  are  able  to  put  in  print,  and  valuable 
books  from  their  own  libraries  with  which  they  are  compelled 
to  part  to  buy  the  necessities  of  life.  Famous  authors  take 
turns  keeping  shop.  It  is  a  cooperative  enterprise  and  the 
proceeds  are  divided  between  them.  The  poets  have  a  similar 
establishment  opposite  the  Art  Theater  in  the  Kammergierski 
Pereoulak.  To  these  places  the  superannuated  members  of  the 
"intelligentsia"  bring  their  cherished  libraries  to  be  sold  on 
commission,  for  though  this  traffic  is  technically  illegal,  all 
books  being  theoretically  the  property  of  the  state  except  those 
allowed  individuals  for  use  in  their  special  work,  it  is  impos- 
sible to  control  such  sales. 

One  of  my  favorite  recreations  in  Moscow  was  frequent 
trips  to  galleries  and  museums.  All  of  the  old  galleries,  such 
as  the  Tschoukin  and  Tretiakov,  have  been  preserved  intact, 
and  many  private  collections  which  were  inaccessible  to  the 
general  public  before  the  Revolution  have  been  thrown  open 
for  everyone  to  enjoy.  The  famous  Rumiantzev  Museum, 
with  its  historical  paintings,  its  fine  library  and  its  remarkable 
ethnographical  section,  is  well  kept  up.  It  is  not  always  safe 
to  indulge,  however,  even  in  such  harmless  amusements  as  vis- 
iting museums  in  Russia.  A  lady  whom  I  knew  very  well 
was  caught  in  the  Rumiantzev  Museum  during  a  raid  of  the 
Checka.  Some  of  the  officials,  it  seemed,  were  suspected  of 
counter-revolutionary  activities,  the  building  was  raided  and 
all  the  visitors  were  arrested  and  held  for  six  days  in  the 
Checka  as  witnesses. 

The  Tolstoi  museum  was  open,  as  was  the  house  of 
Herzen,  which  has  been  turned  into  an  interesting  exhibit  of 
original  manuscripts  and  documents  on  the  early  history  of 
the  Socialist  movement  among  the  intellectuals.  One  of  the 
most  delightful  collections  recently  thrown  open  to  the  public 
was  the  famous  Morosov  collection  of  paintings,  bibelots,  old 
porcelain  and  furniture.    Then  there  were  the  Historical  Mu- 


162  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

seum  on  the  Niglinnaya,  the  peasant  art,  or  Kustari  exhibit 
in  the  Leontevsky  Pereoulak  and  many  others. 

In  addition,  a  number  of  new  museums  were  estaWished. 
One  of  these  was  a  Historical  Exhibit  of  Russian  Army  Uni- 
forms from  the  earliest  times.  It  was  being  assembled  in  the 
former  home  of  Prince  Youssoupov,  the  man  who  murdered 
Rasputin.  The  palace,  which  was  a  gift  of  one  of  the  Czars 
to  the  Youssoupovs,  is  a  picturesque  pile  of  buildings  in  a  large 
garden  surrounded  by  a  superb  wrought  iron  rail.  The  oldest 
portion  was  built  in  the  seventeenth  century,  and  is  typical  of 
the  Russian  architecture  of  that  period.  It  is  flanked  by  a 
semicircle  of  picturesque  one-story  outbuildings,  formerly  used 
as  officers'  and  servants'  quarters.  During  the  imperial  war  it 
was  turned  over  to  the  British  Red  Cross,  and  for  some  time 
after  the  Revolution  a  number  of  British  officers  were  in- 
terned there.  The  proletarian  museums,  of  which  there  are 
several  devoted  to  applied  arts  and  technical  subjects,  were  also 
most  interesting. 

The  theatres  were  an  unalloyed  pleasure  to  me,  beginning 
with  the  Grand  Opera,  where  I  was  usually  able  to  get  a  seat 
once  a  week  or  oftener  in  the  box  reserved  for  the  Foreign 
Office.  While  nothing  new  has  been  put  on  within  the  last 
few  years,  the  repertoire  of  operas  and  ballets  is  but  little 
below  the  pre-war  standard,  though  of  the  former  stars  none 
are  left  but  Gelser,  whose  dancing  is  perennially  delightful,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  she  is  nearly  fifty,  and  Nyezhdanova,  the 
leading  soprano,  who  has  a  really  exquisite  voice.  Much  gos- 
sip is  current  anent  Gelser,  who  is  reputed  in  Moscow  to  be  an 
agent  of  the  Checka,  her  special  function  being  said  to  be  de- 
nunciation of  those  who  still  have  jewels  or  money  in  their 
possession  or  who  are  trying  to  secretly  dispose  of  them,  but 
this  has  been  indignantly  denied  by  the  dancer  herself  and 
many  of  her  friends. 

SchaHapin  does  not  sing  at  the  "Bolshoi  Oper,"  as  the 
Moscow  Grand  Opera  House  is  called,  and  is  officially  attached 
to  the  Marinski  Opera  in  Petrograd.  When  he  comes  to 
Moscow  he  sings  at  the  Little  Opera,  as  he  had  a  quarrel 
with  the  director  of  the  Grand  Opera  and  refuses  to  appear 


MOSCOW  FOYERS  AND  SALONS     163 

there.  I  often  heard  him  in  "Faust"  and  "Boris  Godounov," 
his  favorite  roles.  His  voice  has  failed  considerably,  but  his 
acting  is  as  wonderful  as  ever.  He  also  frequently  appeared 
at  the  Hermitage,  one  of  Moscow's  summer  theaters. 

The  people  of  the  working  classes  adore  him  as  there  is  a 
story  of  how  from  a  blacksmith  he  became  a  great  artist. 
About  two  years  ago  he  became  a  Communist  and  his  glorious 
interpretation  of  such  songs  as  the  Dubinushka  or  the  Inter- 
national is  enough  to  make  any  impressionable  individual  run 
out  and  register  as  a  candidate  for  party  membership.  Never- 
theless he  is  reputed  to  be  immensely  rich  in  the  only  concrete 
wealth  in  Russia  at  the  present  time — provisions.  As  a  gov- 
ernment employee  he  receives  the  excellent  payok  and  pay  ac- 
corded to  all  artists;  in  addition  he  gets  a  premium  in  food 
products  for  every  appearance  in  public  and  has  permission  to 
sing  in  concerts  organized  by  the  trades  unions,  governmental 
departments  and  various  Communist  organizations.  For  this 
he  always  exacts  payment  in  kind,  his  price  sometimes  being 
prohibitive.  I  remember  one  occasion  on  which  he  was  turned 
down  because  his  price  was  too  high.  The  employees  of  the 
War  Office  organized  a  concert  for  the  benefit  of  a  fund  to  pur- 
chase provisions  for  distribution  among  those  who  were  in  need 
of  extra  rations  owing  to  the  number  of  non-workers  dependent 
on  them.  Schaliapin  was  asked  his  terms,  which  were  as 
follows:  half  a  pood  of  cocoa  (a  pood  is  thirty-six  pounds), 
half  a  pood  of  rice,  and  a  pood  of  white  flour.  The  concert 
was  held  without  him,  but  it  was  a  great  success.  I  attended 
with  Mile.  Buturlin,  daughter  of  an  old  Imperial  general,  and 
young  Madame  Brusilov,  both  of  whom  worked  on  the  staff 
of  the  War  Office.  After  the  concert  there  was  an  informal 
dance  at  which  there  were  many  Red  Army  officers.  The  girls 
all  wore  pretty  summer  costumes,  and  it  was  a  very  pleasant 
occasion. 

I  found  the  regular  theaters  in  Moscow  both  excellent  and 
at  the  same  time  disappointing.  To  begin  with  there  was  the 
Art  Theater,  with  Stanislavski  as  its  head,  which  was  giving 
exactly  the  same  class  of  plays  as  it  had  always  done,  with  the 
same  perfection  of  detail  and  stage  settings,  the  same  finished 


164  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

acting.  The  repertoire  of  the  theater  included  historical  plays, 
such  as  "Boris  Godounov,"  and  "Tzar  Feodor,"  one  or  two 
of  Tchekov's  comedies,  Tolstoi's  "Living  Corpse,"  Gorki's  "On 
the  Bottom,"  a  translation  of  Dickens'  "Cricket  on  the  Hearth," 
which  was  very  popular;  a  translation  of  Berger's  American 
play,  "The  Deluge,"  a  Russian  version  of  Byron's  "Cain," 
spectacularly  staged  with  wonderful  scenic  effects  quite  re- 
markable considering  the  difficulties  in  obtaining  materials  and 
technical  equipment  in  Russia  at  the  present  time,  and  an  up- 
to-date  version  of  the  old  French  opera,  "The  Daughter  of 
Madame  Angot."  This,  as  a  revolutionary  play,  had  quite  a 
vogue  in  Moscow,  and  its  permission  by  the  Soviet  authorities 
was  a  testimony  to  the  liberal  views  of  the  government  in  ar- 
tistic matters.  It  is  really  a  satire  on  the  French  Revolution. 
In  one  scene  the  hero  comes  out  and  says,  "It's  fine  to  live  in  a 
Republic.  Before  the  Revolution  I  was  locked  up  in  one  prison. 
Now  I  go  from  one  prison  to  another."  This  sally  was  al- 
ways greeted  with  roars  of  delight  from  the  audience,  as  was  a 
remark  to  the  effect  that  a  Republic  is  the  last  place  in  which 
anyone  wants  to  hear  the  truth. 

The  Art  Theater  has  under  its  direction  two  small  theaters, 
known  as  the  First  and  Second  Studios,  the  former  in  the 
Soviet  square,  the  latter  in  the  Miliyutinsky  Pereoulak,  where 
new  productions  are  tried  out  and  young  artists  trained  for  the 
main  theater.  I  saw  several  charming  plays  there,  one  a  revival 
of  an  old  Polish  legend,  "Balladina,"  which  was  given  at  the 
First  Studio,  the  other  a  dream  play  with  a  socialistic  moral, 
"The  Rose  Pattern."  Both  were  beautifully  staged  and  excel- 
lently presented. 

The  Pokazatelni,  or  Portable  Theater,  has  introduced  rather 
new  and  original  stage  settings,  but  its  repertoire  is  confined 
to  Shakespearian  productions  and  translations  of  the  Goldoni 
comedies.  There  were  also  the  Little  Theater  and  the  Korsch, 
where  comedies  of  Tchekov  and  Madame  Gippius  were  given ; 
the  Gabima,  where  Jewish  plays  were  presented  in  Hebrew,  the 
most  popular  being  a  version  of  Eugene  Sue's  "Wandering 
Jew,"  under  the  title  of  "The  Eternal  Jew";  and  the  Nikit- 
skaya,  a  comic  opera  theater  where  "The  Dollar  Princess," 


MOSCOW  FOYERS  AND  SALONS     165 

"The  Merry  Widow,"  and  "The  Geisha,"  with  time-worn  cos- 
tumes and  voices,  were  tlie  only  attraction. 

The  only  really  interesting  theater  from  the  standpoint  of 
originality  was  the  Kammerni,  which  was  founded  several 
years  ago  by  a  group  of  secessionists  from  the  Art  Theater, 
headed  by  Tairov  and  Madame  Konen,  a  delightful  artist. 
Tairov,  with  whom  I  had  several  conversations,  has  very  orig- 
inal ideas  about  stage  production.  He  maintains  that  no  mat- 
ter how  fine  the  lines  of  any  play,  its  immediate  appeal  is  to 
the  vision  alone;  that  the  ear  is  half  as  quick  as  the  eye  to 
absorb  impressions.  Therefore  he  devotes  great  attention  to 
gesture  and  pantomime,  according  them  what  seems  to  the 
theatergoer  accustomed  to  ordinary  stage  technique  a  some- 
what exaggerated  importance.  The  pantomime  of  the  actor 
throughout  must  emphasize  every  shade  of  emotion;  the  in- 
flections of  the  voice  are  of  secondary  importance. 

Tairov's  stage  settings  are  bizarre,  often  decidedly  Cubistic 
and  somewhat  bewildering,  but  they  are  all  interpretative  of 
the  spirit  as  well  as  of  the  actual  mise  en  scene  of  the  play. 
In  "Sakuntala,"  for  example,  attention  is  not  paid  so  much 
to  reproducing  with  historical  accuracy  the  costumes  of  the 
period  as  to  emphasize  the  erotic  symbolism  of  the  old  Indian 
legend.  Other  plays  produced  by  Tairov  during  the  season  of 
1919-20  were:  "Salome,"  "Adrienne  Lecouvreur,"  "Pierette's 
Veil,"  a  pantomime  with  new  and  very  interesting  incidental 
music,  and  "Princess  Brambilla,"  a  satire  taken  from  the 
Decameron  of  Boccaccio,  very  cleverly  ridiculing  the  blood 
and  thunder  plays  of  the  romantic  period.  Scri-be's  "Adrienne 
Lecouvreur"  was  interpreted  in  the  same  manner.  He  is  the 
only  stage  director  in  Moscow  who  ignores  tradition  and  ex- 
presses something  of  the  iconoclastic  spirit  of  the  Revolution. 

After  I  was  imprisoned  I  was  told  by  some  of  the  people 
in  my  room  in  the  Checka  that  the  Nikitskaya  Theater,  which 
had  existed  under  private  management,  had  been  turned  into  a 
theater  of  Revolutionary  Satire,  and  that  very  clever  perfor- 
mances were  given  there. 

A  prisoner  from  Petrograd  described  to  me  the  lurid  plot 
of  one  of  these  Satires  which  she  had  seen  shortly  before  her 


166  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

arrest.  It  was  called  "The  Dirty  Dog,"  and  was  intended 
primarily  to  appeal  to  the  Red  Army  men.  Half  of  the  action 
of  the  piece  took  place  in  the  audience  itself.  It  opened  with 
the  session  of  a  produce  exchange  which  dealt  in  human 
flesh.  A  manufacturer  and  a  general  wearing  a  death's  head 
appear  and  order  workmen  and  men  for  cannon  fodder.  The 
brokers  dash  into  the  audience  and  bring  out  a  young  working- 
man  who  serves  as  a  sample  for  the  merchandise  to  be  delivered 
for  the  human  sacrifice  to  Capital  and  Militarism.  He  displays 
his  muscles,  makes  him  show  his  teeth,  feels  him  from  head 
to  foot,  declares  him  sound  in  mind  and  limb,  and  finally  drives 
a  bargain  at  a  wholesale  price,  for  so  many  thousands. 

A  revolutionary  poet  jumps  onto  the  stage  and  protests, 
threatens  to  commit  suicide  and  is  thrown  out  by  the  "boun- 
cers." A  sleek  "Madam,"  painted,  powdered  and  befeathered, 
comes  on  and  picks  out  a  lovely  young  girl  from  the  audience. 
She  is  also  bought  for  a  price  and  carried  off  to  white  slavery. 
Predatory  capitalism  continues  its  traffic  in  lives  until  the 
inevitable  moment  of  retribution,  when  there  is  a  terrific  thun- 
derclap, the  entire  structure  of  the  produce  exchange  falls, 
crushing  its  members  and  their  satellites,  and  the  five-pointed 
star  of  the  Soviet  Republic  rises  above  the  ruins. 

At  the  circus  in  Moscow  there  is  a  famous  clown  called 
Bim  Bourn,  who  has  gotten  into  trouble  a  number  of  times 
over  his  proclivities  for  making  fun  of  the  Soviet  Government. 
Once  he  came  out  and  began  wearily  to  tell  how  hard  it  was 
to  hve  in  Moscow,  how  scarce  food  was,  how  next  to  impos- 
sible to  get  a  log  of  wood  or  a  pair  of  shoes.  Then  he  sat 
down  on  a  drum  and  put  his  head  on  his  hands  quite  dejectedly. 
His  interlocutor  inquired, 

"Well,  Bim  Bourn,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?" 
No  answer  from  Bim  Bourn, 

"What  are  you  waiting  for  anyhow?" 

"I'm  waiting  to  see  what  the  Russian  people  are  going 
to  do  about  it,"  was  the  answer. 

On  another  occasion  Bim  Boum  came  out  with  a  picture  of 
Lenin  and  one  of  Trotzki.  "I've  got  two  beautiful  portraits," 
he  announced.    "I'm  going  to  take  them  home  with  me," 


MOSCOW  FOYERS  AND  SALONS     167 

"What  will  you  do  with  them  when  you  get  them  home  ?" 
he  was  asked. 

"Oh,  I'll  hang  one  on  a  nail  and  put  the  other  against  the 
wall,"  was  the  quick  retort. 

Again  Bim  Boum  propounded  a  conundrum.  "Why  is 
the  Soviet  Republic  like  a  wheel?"  he  asked,  and  receiving  no 
reply,  proceeded  to  give  the  answer.  "Because  it  is  held  to- 
gether by  the  Checka,"  checka  being  the  Russian  word  for 
hub,  and  at  the  same  time  the  popular  abbreviation  for  the  title 
of  the  much  dreaded  Extraordinary  Commission. 

For  these  and  other  remarks  of  like  character  Bim  Boum 
has  spent  many  weeks  in  prison,  but  he  is  always  released  after 
a  few  days  because  he  is  about  the  most  popular  entertainer 
in  Moscow  and  the  Soviet  authorities  fully  realize  the  enor- 
mous importance  of  keeping  up  the  public  morale  through 
theaters  and  amusements. 

At  the  Nikitskaya  Circus,  a  theater  where  both  legitimate 
drama  and  vaudeville  are  given  during  the  summer  months, 
I  heard  a  popular  artist  sing  a  song  describing  the  fate  of  a 
horse  that  died  in  Moscow.  First  the  carcass  was  sent  to 
the  Narkomsdrav,  Commissariat  of  Health,  to  discover  the 
cause  of  death,  then  to  the  Narkompros,  the  Commissariat  of 
Education  for  anatomical  research,  then  to  the  "Glavkozh" 
Leather  Administration,  for  the  sake  of  its  hide,  and  finally 
to  the  Narkomprod,  Food  Administration,  to  be  carved  into 
beefsteaks. 

There  was  a  vaudeville  theater  called  "The  Bat,"  where 
excellent  vaudeville  performances  were  given  and  there  was  a 
very  clever  monologist  who  was  almost  as  daring  and  cjuite 
as  popular,  with  a  rather  different  audience,  as  Bim  Boum.  Be- 
tween the  acts  refreshments  such  as  coffee,  cakes  and  ices  were 
served  at  The  Bat.  It  was  a  great  rendezvous  for  the  rich 
speculators  and  their  mistresses. 

The  motion  picture  theaters  in  Moscow  were  as  a  rule 
gloomy  and  unattractive  places,  poorly  heated,  dirty,  and  for 
the  most  part,  displaying  worn-out  films  from  pre-war  days. 
There  were  a  few  theaters  where  the  Soviet  news  weeklies  were 
shown  together  with  a  number  of  propaganda  films,  but  the 


168  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

government  has  been  terribly  hampered  with  regard  to  film 
production  by  the  lack  of  technical  material.  The  motion  pic- 
ture industry  is  controlled  by  the  Kino  Komitet,  a  branch  of 
the  Department  of  Education,  and  it  has  planned  a  wonderful 
program  on  paper  for  popular  amusement  and  education 
through  the  movies,  but  at  present  little  can  be  done. 

I  have  almost  forgotten  to  mention  one  of  the  most  delight- 
ful theaters  in  Moscow,  the  Children's  Theater,  where  all  last 
year  performances  were  given  on  several  afternoons  during 
the  week  and  on  Sundays,  of  a  dramatization  of  Kipling's 
"Jungle  Book,"  under  the  title  "Mowgli."  It  was  charmingly 
acted  and  the  jungle  stage  settings  were  quite  extraordinary. 
There  were  a  number  of  special  performances  at  this  theater 
for  child  speculators  who  were  picked  up  on  the  streets  by 
special  agents  of  the  Department  of  Education  and  given  free 
tickets  to  the  performance.  Between  the  acts  a  woman  speaker 
came  out  and  told  them  what  a  mistake  they  were  making, 
what  poor  citizens  they  were,  and  tried  to  induce  them  to  give 
up  their  illegitimate  calling  and  go  back  to  school.  This 
theater  was  also  used  for  children's  concerts  where  the  various 
numbers  on  the  program  were  explained  in  terms  the  children 
could  all  understand. 

Most  of  the  theaters  and  vaudeville  houses  were  national- 
ized, but  others  such  as  the  Art  Theater  and  the  Nikitskaya 
were  run  by  collectives  as  cooperative  enterprises.  They  were 
compelled  to  turn  over  a  certain  number  of  seats  at  each  per- 
formance for  distribution  among  the  trades  unions  and  gov- 
ernment offices  at  fixed  prices,  and  their  artists  were  required 
to  give  their  services  for  a  fixed  number  of  free  perfomances 
in  various  institutions  and  factories,  and  for  the  Red  Army. 
Companies  were  frequently  sent  to  the  front  or  to  the  provinces 
under  the  management  of  the  Department  of  Education. 

It  was  very  amusing  to  note  that  ticket  speculators  flourish 
in  Moscow  just  as  they  do  on  Broadway.  In  addition  to  the 
seats  distributed  free  a  certain  number  of  seats  for  theatrical 
performances  and  concerts  are  sold  at  the  government  ticket 
office  on  the  Petrovka  and  at  the  various  theaters.  These 
tickets  as  well  as  those  received  by  workmen  and  employees 


MOSCOW  FOYERS  AND  SALONS     169 

free  are  bought  up  by  the  speculators  and  sold  at  an  advance 
of  sometimes  two  or  three  hundred  per  cent.  The  curbs  in 
front  of  the  theaters  were  often  lined  with  them  before  the 
evening's  performance.  They  were  frequently  rounded  up 
and  arrested,  but  in  a  few  days  the  industry  was  as  thriving 
as  ever. 

The  Art  Theater  was  rather  crippled  during  the  winter 
season  of  1920  by  the  absence  of  three  of  its  principal  artists, 
Madame  Germanova,  Madame  Knieper  and  Kachalev,  who 
had  gone  to  Kharkov  before  it  was  taken  by  Denikin  in  the 
autumn  of  1919  and  had,  as  many  people  asserted,  deliberately 
allowed  themselves  to  be  captured  by  the  Whites.  After  the 
defeat  of  Denikin  they  were  afraid,  so  it  was  reported,  to  come 
back  to  Moscow.  They  finally  returned,  in  the  autumn  of 
1920,  and  were  allowed  to  resume  their  work  unmolested. 
At  present  they  are  touring  Europe.  Stanislavski,  who  is 
getting  old,  was  much  disheartened  over  the  outlook.  He 
missed  his  bourgeois  audiences,  and  did  not  feel,  so  he  told 
me,  the  same  enthusiasm  about  playing  before  the  proletariat. 
He  complained  of  the  scarcity  of  stage  material,  of  the  diffi- 
culty of  life  in  Moscow,  and  was  only  living  for  the  time  when 
he  would  be  able  to  take  his  company  out  of  Russia  and  tour 
Europe  and  America. 

In  this  I  think  Stanislavski  was  wrong.  I  found  every- 
where among  the  lower  classes  in  Russia  an  intense  apprecia- 
tion, though  not  always  comprehension  of  all  that  was  best  in 
art,  music  and  literature.  On  the  whole  I  think  the  Russian 
people  have  more  unerring  artistic  instincts  than  any  people 
with  whom  I  have  ever  been  brought  in  contact.  The  crowds 
of  the  great  unwashed  at  operas,  plays  and  symphony  con- 
certs were  usually  almost  reverentially  attentive,  even  if  it  was 
at  times  a  bit  over  their  heads.  This,  of  course,  applies  to  the 
town  population  only.  The  peasants  were  usually  mystified, 
and  often  frankly  bored  at  efforts  made  to  cultivate  them. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
A  PROVINCIAL  JUNKET 

By  the  end  of  May  the  Polish  offensive  wa>  in  full  swing 
and  I  witnessed  a  remarkable  change  in  the  attitude  of  the 
people  towards  the  government.  It  aroused  a  perfect  storm 
of  national  feeling,  somewhat  stimulated,  it  is  true,  by  adroit 
propaganda,  but  none  the  less  sincere  at  bottom.  Thousands 
of  former  officers  volunteered  their  services  against  the  Poles 
in  perfect  good  faith;  engineers,  doctors,  and  professional  men 
generally  rallied  to  the  support  of  the  government.  The  Men- 
sheviks  and  Social  Revolutionaries  voluntarily  agreed  to  sus- 
pend all  political  activities  during  the  period  of  the  war.  The 
common  soldiers  were  lured  by  the  promise  of  extra  food 
rations  and  raids  into  a  country  where  food  supplies  were 
more  plentiful. 

Moscow  was  plastered  from  end  to  end  with  patriotic 
placards  and  posters  and  some  of  these  were  extraordinarily 
effective.  None  of  them  were  directed  against  the  Polish 
people,  but  all  against  the  Polish  Pans,  the  feudal  aristocracy, 
who,  it  was  alleged,  had  plunged  both  countries  into  war  against 
the  wishes  of  the  people.  Poles  living  in  Russia,  whether  Com- 
munists or  not,  were  bitterly  opposed  to  the  war  and  saw 
in  it  the  possible  ruin  of  their  own  country. 

At  this  time  the  morale  of  the  Russian  people  was  further 
strengthened  by  the  visit  of  the  British  Labor  Delegation,  and 
the  Soviet  authorities  did  not  fail  to  make  the  most  of  the 
propaganda  possibilities  afforded  by  its  foreign  guests.  In  the 
beginning  of  June,  I  accompanied  the  British  Labor  Delegation 
on  its  trip  down  the  Volga.  We  went  by  rail  from  Moscow 
to  Nijni-Novgorod,  and  thence  by  steamer  to  Saratov,  stopping 
at  Simbirsk,  Samara,  Kazan,  the  capital  of  the  Tartar  Re- 
public, Marxstadt,  the  capital  of  the  German  Commune,  and 
many  villages  en  route. 

170 


A  PROVINCIAL  JUNKET  171 

Our  official  hosts  were  Sverdlov,  then  actual  head  of  the 
Soviet  Railroad  Administration,  temporarily  replacing  Krassin 
who  was  in  London,  and  Losovski,  president  of  the  All-Russian 
Soviet  of  Trades  Unions.  In  the  party,  in  addition  to  the 
members  of  the  British  delegation,  were  two  delegates  from 
the  British  Shop  Stewards'  Committee,  a  German  Syndicalist, 
several  Swedish  Socialists,  and  a  small  international  group  of 
correspondents.  The  latter  included  Mr.  Meekin  of  the  London 
Daily  Nezvs;  Henry  Alsberg,  an  American  newspaper  man,  who 
on  the  Volga  trip  as  well  as  in  Moscow  acted  for  some  time  as 
correspondent  of  the  London  Daily  Herald;  Bertrand  Russell, 
the  great  Cambridge  mathematician  and  Fabian  Socialist,  who 
was  to  write  a  series  of  articles  on  Russia  for  the  Republic;  Ru- 
dolph Herzog,  the  German  publicist;  M.  Marsillac  of  the  Lib- 
eral French  paper  Le  Joiirfial,  and  Signor  Magrini  from  the 
Italian  Serratist  organ,  Avanti.  We  were  furnished  with  offi- 
cial interpreters  by  the  Moscow  Foreign  Office,  and  in  the  entire 
party,  with  the  exception  of  Charles  Buxton,  who  had  come  to 
Russia  as  a  member  of  the  British  delegation  with  the  specific 
object  of  ascertaining  whether  there  were  any  traces  left  in  the 
Volga  region,  of  the  work  of  the  British  Society  of  Friends 
among  the  peasants  which  was  stopped  after  the  Revolution, 
there  was  no  one  who  spoke  any  Russian  except  myself.  For 
that  reason  I  was  able  to  get  a  better  first-hand  estimate  of  the 
situation  than  any  of  the  other  foreigners. 

Our  tour  was  a  most  luxurious  one  throughout,  giving  no 
idea  of  the  ordinary  hardships  of  travel  in  Russia  at  the  present 
time.  We  had  a  special  train  composed  of  International 
Sleepers,  with  all  the  former  comforts  including  spotless  linen, 
and  electric  lights,  a  dining  car  where  we  had  three  good  meals 
a  day,  service  and  appointments  being  very  nearly  up  to 
peace  time  standards.  The  same  conditions  were  reproduced 
on  our  steamer  which  was  one  of  the  best  boats  of  the  Volga 
Steam  Navigation  Company,  whose  summer  tours  were  form- 
erly included  in  the  itinerary  of  every  traveler  who  "did" 
Russia  properly.  We  had  no  meals  on  shore  except  a  superb 
banquet  at  Nijni-Novgorod,  beginning  with  the  sakouski 
hors  d'ceuvres  for  which  Russia  was  famous  in  the  old  days 


172  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

and  ending  with  ices.  Taking  it  all  in  all  the  only  physical 
hardship  endured  on  the  trip  was  the  absence  of  vodka,  which 
was  particularly  trying  to  those  who  had  forgotten  to  bring 
their  flasks  with  them. 

At  Sormovo,  the  great  locomotive  and  munition  works  near 
Nijni-Novgorod,  a  demonstration  was  arranged  in  honor  of 
the  delegation,  with  a  brass  band,  red  banners  galore;  the  cheer- 
ing proletariat  turned  out  in  force  to  be  told  by  English  and 
Russian  speakers  that  their  troubles  would  soon  be  over  and 
that  the  visit  of  the  British  Delegation  was  the  first  visible  evi- 
dence of  the  united  support  of  the  Soviet  Republic  by  the 
working  masses  of  the  outside  world.  Similar  meetings  were 
arranged  in  all  the  towns,  and  it  soon  became  evident  to  the 
members  of  the  delegation  that  they  were  being  used  to  stimu- 
late the  morale  of  the  Russian  people  and  were  not  getting  an 
insight  into  real  conditions. 

When  the  matter  was  put  up  to  Sverdlov  and  Losovski 
they  agreed  with  perfect  fairness  that  this  was  so,  and  at 
once  arranged  for  us  to  stop  at  a  number  of  villages,  which 
had  not  been  included  in  the  original  itinerary.  This  was  a 
real  sacrifice  on  their  part  because  it  meant  cutting  out  an 
elaborate  celebration  at  Kazan,  including  manoeuvres  of  the 
Army  Reserve  Corps  stationed  there,  which  was  sixty  thousand 
strong.  In  the  towns  and  villages  the  members  of  the  delega- 
tion were  given  opportunities  to  talk  with  the  people,  but  they 
could  only  do  this  by  means  of  interpreters ;  and  as  the  peasants 
are  by  nature  secretive,  and  by  training  and  habit  dating  back 
to  pre-revolutionary  days,  suspicious  of  any  official  personages 
coming  from  the  "center"  as  the  capitol  is  called,  they  learned 
comparatively  little  about  the  actual  situation.  Being  able  to 
speak  a  little  Russian,  I  made  a  point  of  cutting  loose  from 
the  official  party,  and  in  many  small  homes  and  izbas,  where 
I  was  received  with  the  wholesouled  hospitality  and  simple 
friendliness  that  are  among  the  many  lovable  traits  of  the 
Russian  people,  I  acquired  facts  that  left  no  doubt  in  my  mind 
as  to  the  imminence  of  coming  famine. 

Crops  in  the  provinces  on  both  sides  of  the  Volga  were 
average  or  above,  but  the  acreage  under  cultivation  had  been 


A  PROVINCIAL  JUNKET  173 

steadily  declining  since  1916.  This  was  due  partly  to  the 
fact  that  most  of  the  young  men  had  been  conscripted  in  the 
Kolchak  or  Red  Armies  and  that  portions  of  the  country  had 
been  devastated  during  the  civil  war,  but  principally  to  the  lack 
of  seeds,  fertilizer,  farm  implements,  and  the  opposition  of  the 
peasants  to  the  land  tax  and  requisitioning  systems. 

The  land  tax  required  them  to  deliver  to  the  government 
everything  they  produced  in  the  way  of  farm  and  dairy  prod- 
ucts above  a  certain  quantity  fixed  at  so  much  per  capita  and 
estimated  by  the  government  as  sufficient  to  carry  them  over 
till  the  next  harvest.  There  was  no  incentive  for  them  to  raise 
anything  beyond  the  amount  necessary  to  supply  their  own 
needs,  and  they  had  no  confidence  in  the  promises  of  the  govern- 
ment to  give  them  in  return  the  seeds  and  implements  which 
would  enable  them  to  plant  a  larger  acreage  another  year,  when 
the  existing  land  tax,  which  it  was  understood  was  only  a 
temporary  war  measure,  would  be  replaced  by  one  based  on  the 
return  of  a  percentage  of  the  harvest,  leaving  them  in  posses- 
sion of  the  remainder.  It  was  evident  that  some  districts 
would  fall  far  below  the  quota  in  the  matter  of  returns  and 
only  one,  the  Tartar  Republic,  had  a  prospect  of  exceeding  the 
required  amount.  In  many  places  the  peasants  had  concealed 
huge  quantities  of  food  supplies,  the  hiding  places  had  been 
betrayed  or  discovered  and  everything  confiscated,  leaving  them 
face  to  face  with  the  necessity  of  buying  from  their  neighbors 
or  starving. 

In  addition  there  had  been  special  requisitions  for  the 
immediate  needs  of  the  Red  Army  in  many  districts,  and  nom- 
inally voluntary  levies  for  the  children  in  Moscow  and  Petro- 
grad.  There  was  an  enormous  amount  of  stealing  and  corrup- 
tion among  the  local  government  officials,  so  that  many  people 
were  actually  hungry  in  the  early  summer  of  1920,  with  the 
prospect  of  the  continuance  of  the  requisitions.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  there  would  not  be  enough  seeds  to  go  around  in  the 
autumn  distribution  and  that  the  acreage  planted  for  1921 
would  be  less  than  that  of  the  previous  season.  Many  peasants 
were  emigrating  to  the  large  towns  in  search  of  factory  em- 
ployment. 


174  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

I  also  heard  reports  of  a  real  famine  to  the  east  along  the 
foothills  of  the  Urals,  and  ran  into  several  large  parties  of 
peasants  from  the  Ufa  district  who  told  me  that  there  was  no 
bread  or  work  there  and  that  they  were  emigrating  west  in 
search  of  employment  and  food. 

At  one  of  the  villages  between  Samara  and  Saratov  where 
Sverdlov  stopped  to  meet  some  people  on  business  matters  we 
met  the  first  party  of  emigrants.  It  was  late  at  night  when 
we  arrived  and  the  emigrants  were  camped  on  the  river  bank, — 
men  in  sheepskin  coats,  high  boots  and  astrakhan  caps ;  women 
in  gaily  colored  shawls  and  head  kerchiefs  were  huddled  in 
picturesque  groups  around  their  fires  as  the  spring  nights  were 
still  cold,  crooning  weird  songs,  laughing  and  shouting  to  one 
another  or  talking  in  low  tones.  Their  baggage,  boxes,  bales, 
nail-studded  red  chests  and  bulky  bundles  were  in  conglomerate 
heaps.  In  the  background  was  a  forest  of  birch  and  spruce. 
Over  all  was  the  pale  light  of  the  spring  moon.  It  was  one 
of  the  most  picturesque  sights  imaginable. 

On  the  way  to  Saratov  we  stopped  at  the  German  autono- 
mous commune  of  Marxstadt,  a  colony  founded  in  the  days 
of  Catherine  the  Great,  which  has  kept  its  German  character 
for  almost  a  century  and  a  half.  Many  of  the  inhabitants  to 
this  day  speak  only  German.  Marxstadt  was  run  with  true 
Teutonic  efficiency.  All  requisitions  proceeded  in  the  most 
orderly  manner,  available  supplies  were  equitably  distributed, 
schools,  hospitals  and  all  community  enterprises  were  well 
administered,  and  the  small  local  industries  were  in  a  rela- 
tively flourishing  condition.  The  percentage  of  illiteracy 
among  the  inhabitants  was  remarkably  small  for  Russia,  only 
fifteen  per  cent.  The  inhabitants  were  already  perturbed,  how- 
ever, over  the  fact  that  their  reserve  supplies  were  exhausted, 
and  they  told  me  that,  unless  the  early  harvest  in  1921  was  a 
good  one,  the  food  situation  would  be  very  serious. 

At  Marxstadt  we  had  a  small  sized  scandal  which  was  the 
subject  of  much  gossip  and  no  little  excitement  aboard  ship. 
The  German  syndicalist,  who  was  a  member  of  our  party,  asked 
permission  when  we  arrived  at  Marxstadt,  to  make  a  speech 
to  his  fellow  countrymen.     To  the  horror  of  the  Soviet  au- 


A  PROVINCIAL  JUNKET  175 

thorities  he  burst  forth  into  a  violent  denunciation  of  the  en- 
tire Communist  system,  asserting  that  the  people  were  just 
as  much  slaves  in  Russia  as  anywhere  else  and  denouncing 
what  he  termed  the  military  imperialism  of  the  Soviet  oli- 
garchy. Pie  was  finally  cut  short  by  Losovski,  who  was  a 
most  tactful  and  pacific  individual.  He  made  the  suggestion 
that  as  everybody  was  hungry  we  had  better  go  to  supper. 

Across  the  way  from  Marxstadt  was  a  village  of  Old  Be- 
lievers, a  primitive  Greek  sect,  of  whom  there  are  still  several 
hundred  thousands  in  Russia.  They  regard  all  who  do  not 
share  their  faith  as  unclean,  and  it  is  against  their  principles 
to  use  any  articles  touched  by  non-believers.  Though  they  in- 
vited us  to  have  tea  and  simple  refreshments  in  their  houses 
they  would  not  serve  us  from  their  own  dishes,  but  used  those 
specially  provided  for  the  purpose.  In  this  village  we  saw 
the  Executive  Committee  of  the  Soviet  in  session,  and  it  seemed 
to  be  transacting  its  business  afifairs  with  considerable  effi- 
ciency. 

There  was  a  very  clean  hospital,  well  equipped,  though 
lacking  in  some  of  the  most  necessary  medicines,  a  good  school 
building,  a  library  and  the  newly  established  village  museum, 
of  which  the  inhabitants  were  very  proud.  The  chief  objects 
displayed  in  it  were  some  geological  specimens,  a  few  anti- 
quated muskets,  some  caterpillars  and  a  large  wasp's  nest. 

The  farm  implements  in  use  in  the  village  were  of  the  most 
primitive  description.  I  saw  ploughs  which  looked  as  if  they 
might  have  belonged  to  Biblical  days  with  wooden  shares, 
bound  together  with  thongs  instead  of  nails,  and  the  women 
did  not  even  have  spinning  wheels,  but  spun  their  wool  and 
flax  with  a  distaff  and  spindle.  In  the  village  cooperative 
store  we  found  a  little  salt,  a  few  yards  of  calico  and  some  kegs 
of  nails.  That  was  practically  all  the  people  were  getting  on 
cards. 

In  the  towns  food  was  scarce,  and  the  government  rations, 
except  those  for  the  Red  Army  and  war  industries  workers, 
were  exceedingly  meagre,  the  bread  ration  being  three  quarters 
of  a  pound  a  day,  and  not  always  regularly  supplied.  There 
was  a  universal  dearth  of  salt  and  sugar.    Meat  was  cheap  and 


176  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

plentiful  in  the  open  market,  but  this  was  a  bad  sign,  for  it 
meant  that  the  peasants  were  kiUing  their  cows  and  horses 
owing  to  the  scarcity  of  fodder. 

A  vigorous  "plant  more  and  plant  better"  campaign  was 
being  waged  by  the  government,  but  it  was  not  backed  up  by 
definite  prospects  of  seeds  and  supplies  to  insure  its  being  car- 
ried out,  and  the  people  were  fully  convinced  that  a  famine  was 
coming. 

In  Saratov  we  were  treated  to  the  usual  rounds  of  recep- 
tions and  public  functions.  I  cut  them  all  and  went  out  to 
talk  with  the  people.  I  learned  that  there  was  already  great 
scarcity  of  food,  citizens  were  receiving  half  a  pound  of  bread 
a  day  on  cards,  and  very  little  else.  Prices  in  the  markets 
were  lower  than  in  Moscow,  but  high  as  compared  with  the 
wage  scale  which  is  lower  in  the  provinces. 

While  walking  through  the  streets  I  saw  a  young  Jewish 
girl  dressed  in  filthy  rags  huddled  on  the  steps  of  a  house  gaz- 
ing stolidly  ahead  in  apparently  hopeless  despair.  She  told 
me  that  she  was  nearly  starving.  She  was  employed  for 
three  days  in  the  week  in  a  Soviet  dining  room,  receiving  a 
small  stipend,  and  barely  enough  food  to  keep  her  alive.  Her 
father  and  mother  were  dead  and  she  had  an  old  grandfather 
and  grandmother  to  support,  neither  of  whom  received  any- 
thing from  the  social  maintenance  department  of  the  provin- 
cial government.  In  the  dining  room,  she  told  me,  she  was 
constantly  subjected  to  insults  from  the  other  girl  employees, 
who  taunted  her  with  being  a  "Jgid,"  and  only  the  day  before 
she  had  had  her  face  scratched  and  her  clothes  torn  by  sev- 
eral of  her  companions  who  set  about  to  beat  her  up  because 
she  was  a  Jewess. 

At  Saratov  I  asked  permission  to  remain  on  the  steamer 
on  which  Sverdlov  was  proceeding  to  Astrakhan  as  I  had 
been  nursing  Clifford  Allen,  a  member  of  the  British  Delega- 
tion, who  was  desperately  ill  with  pneumonia  and  not  in  con- 
dition to  be  moved.  This  permission  was  refused  and  no 
correspondents  were  allowed  to  go  on  to  Astrakhan.  Dr. 
Haden  Guest,  Mrs.  Snowden  and  Bertrand  Russell  remained 
with  Mr.  Allen.     The  correspondents,  including  myself  and 


A  PROVINCIAL  JUNKET  177 

the  rest  of  the  delegation,  returned  to  Moscow  on  a  special 
train  via  Tambov,  according  to  the  original  plan. 

In  the  Tambov  district  we  saw  thousands  of  acres  of  un- 
cultivated land,  the  crops  looked  exceedingly  poor  and  I  was 
told  by  a  man  in  the  station  that  in  many  villages  the  peasants 
were  actually  without  bread,  and  the  general  bad  outlook  for 
the  harvest  was  complicated  by  the  activities  of  Antonov,  the 
Social  Revolutionary  leader,  under  whom  a  number  of  small 
sporadic  revolts  were  constantly  breaking  out.  Altogether  it 
was  evident  that  even  under  the  most  favorable  conditions 
at  least  several  millions  of  people  would  this  year  be  facing 
complete  or  partial  famine  in  the  Volga  and  Tambov  districts, 
and  that  they  were  not  going  to  be  able  to  contribute  their  al- 
lotted quota  towards  the  appro visionment  of  the  cities  and  the 
industrial  population. 

On  the  trip  I  had  many  long  talks  with  the  members  of  the 
delegation.  They  were  divided  into  three  distinct  groups,  the 
extreme  left  represented  by  Robert  Williams  of  the  Transport 
Workers.  Williams  apparently  saw  nothing  and  believed 
everything  that  was  told  him.  He  seemed  carried  away  by  a 
sort  of  romantic  hysteria  and  made  many  speeches  that  I  am 
sure  he  would  never  have  uttered  in  England.  Before  he  left 
he  had  practically  pledged  the  support  of  the  British  Trans- 
port workers  to  the  Third  International  and  direct  Revolu- 
tionary action  in  England.  I  am  not  sure  whether  the  canny 
Bolsheviks  put  entire  confidence  in  his  Red  promises.  He 
was  a  very  popular  figure  at  meetings,  however,  and  he  had 
learned  a  few  words  of  Russian  with  which  he  always  brought 
down  the  house.  With  his  execrable  Russian  accent  he  inter- 
larded every  speech  with  "Da  sdrast  vuyet  Sovietski  Vlast, 
da  sdrast  vuyet  mimoe  revolutye."  "Long  live  the  Soviet 
Government,  long  live  the  world  revolution."  Anything  else 
he  said  mattered  very  little. 

Wollhead,  leader  of  the  British  Independent  Labor  Party, 
was  thoroughly  in  sympathy  with  the  aims  of  the  Soviet  Re- 
public as  far  as  its  own  internal  administration  was  con- 
cerned, and  like  all  the  members  of  the  delegation  and  the 
press  people  who  accompanied  it  he  was  unalterably  opposed 


178  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

to  blockade  and  intervention.  He  regarded  the  Communist 
dictatorship  as  a  wonderful  experiment,  the  success  or  failure 
of  which  could  only  be  fairly  determined  by  giving  the  Bol- 
sheviks a  chance.  As  a  Marxian  Social-Democrat  he  believed 
in  the  dictatorship  of  the  proletariat  and  the  combination  of 
parliamentarianism  with  direct  action,  but  he  resented  the  dic- 
tatorship of  the  Russian  controlled  Communist  International. 
He  and  Lenin  had  some  hot  words  on  the  subject  when  the 
delegation  returned  to  Moscow,  which  resulted  in  the  failure 
of  the  Independent  Labor  Party  to  join  the  Third  Interna- 
tional. They  proposed  to  make  a  revolution  in  England  in  due 
time,  but  they  were  not  going  to  have  Moscow  tell  them  when 
to  make  it  or  how  to  make  it. 

I  was  much  amused  on  one  occasion  to  detect  the  under- 
lying sturdy  British  nationalism  of  Wollhead,  for  all  his  de- 
testation of  the  capitalistic  class.  We  were  talking  about  the 
retirement  of  the  British  forces  in  Northern  Persia  from  the 
shores  of  the  Caspian  sea.  A  Soviet  despatch  announced  that 
the  Commander  had  been  forced  to  retire  on  account  of  the 
bombardment  by  Red  gunboats. 

"By  God,"  said  Wollhead  impetuously,  "if  we  had  had  one 
British  gunboat  there  we  could  have  sent  their  little  tin  navy 
to  the  bottom  of  the  Caspian."  It  was  the  most  spontaneous 
thing  I  heard  said  during  the  entire  visit  of  the  delegation. 

The  right  wing  of  the  delegation  was  from  the  first  op- 
posed to  the  principles  of  the  Third  International.  Its  favor- 
able disposition  towards  the  Soviet  Government  as  such  was 
considerably  changed  by  the  evident  intention  of  its  leaders  to 
exploit  them,  to  use  them  for  propaganda  purposes,  represent- 
ing them  as  sympathizers  with  rather  than  investigators  of 
actual  conditions,  and  they  resented  having  their  time  planned 
out  for  them  and  the  efforts  made  to  block  any  independent 
investigation  and  interviews  with  the  representatives  of  oppo- 
sition parties.  Dr.  Haden  Guest,  Shaw,  Turner  and  Mrs. 
Snowden  took  this  attitude.  Dr.  Guest  in  particular,  a  former 
British  Army  officer  and  a  man  close  to  the  coalition  govern- 
ment, was  the  object  of  much  suspicion.  It  was  openly  insin- 
uated that  he  was  an  agent  of  the  British  Government  and 


A  PROVINCIAL  JUNKET  179 

only  the  guarantees  given  the  delegation  secured  him  personal 
immunity  from  arrest. 

Clifford  Allen,  who  was  desperately  ill  during  most  of  his 
stay  in  Russia,  was  the  only  real  Communist  in  the  party,  and 
even  he  was  rather  contemptuously  looked  upon  by  certain 
leaders  for  his  pacifism.  Bertrand  Russell  as  a  Fabian  was 
also  profoundly  shocked  by  what  he  regarded  as  a  tendency 
to  Communist  imperialism. 

The  leaders  at  Moscow  were  constantly  running  up  against 
this  sturdy  independence  on  the  part  of  foreign  Socialists 
during  the  summer,  and  I  believe  that  when  the  labor  history 
of  the  present  transition  period  is  written,  the  year  1920  will 
be  marked  as  the  apogee  of  Russian  influence  in  the  World 
Revolutionary  movement,  and  the  beginning  of  its  decline. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

PAGEANTS  AND  PLOTS 

The  two  outstanding  events  of  the  summer  which  dragged 
on  without  incident  except  for  the  depression  caused  by  the 
mihtary  reverses  of  the  Red  Army,  were  the  great  festival  of 
the  Third  International,  and  the  train  of  local  disturbances 
due  to  the  Polish  situation.  I  was  not  allowed  to  attend 
the  congress  of  the  International  or  to  talk  with  the  delegates, 
but  I  took  part  in  some  of  the  public  celebrations,  the  most 
elaborate  of  which  was  the  great  parade  held  in  the  Red  Square 
in  honor  of  the  delegates.  The  whole  square,  bounded  on  the 
west  by  the  crenelated  battlements  of  the  Kremlin,  on  the 
south  by  the  cathedral  of  St.  Basil  the  Blessed,  on  the  east 
by  the  buildings  of  the  great  Kazansky  Bazaar  where  Mos- 
cow's trade  with  the  Far  East  was  formerly  carried  on,  and  on 
the  north  by  the  Moscow  Historical  Museum,  was  transformed 
into  a  glorious  riot  of  color  by  standards  hung  with  red  ban- 
ners and  pennants. 

All  the  surrounding  buildings  were  draped  with  huge 
posters  painted  on  linen,  representing  the  Triumphal  of  the 
World  Proletariat  and  of  the  Soviet  armies.  Fraternal  greet- 
ings to  the  delegates  floated  in  letters  of  gold  in  every  imag- 
inable language  from  innumerable  banners  and  placards.  Over 
the  cathedral  of  St.  Basil  hovered  a  flock  of  sausages  and 
other  balloons  dripping  red  pennants  and  streamers ;  Red  Army 
airplanes  circled  overhead,  all  day  long,  dropping  showers 
of  propaganda  leaflets.  On  the  west  side  of  the  square  was  a 
large  tribune  with  an  elevated  portion  in  the  center  for  the 
People's  Commissars  and  the  speakers  of  the  day,  flanked  by 
seats  on  the  right  for  the  foreign  delegates  and  on  the  left  for 
the  members  of  the  Central  Executive  Committee. 

The  delegates  were  of  every  nationality  under  the  sun,  and 

i8o 


PAGEANTS  AND  PLOTS  181 

the  sober  costumes  of  the  Europeans  and  Americans  threw  in 
rehef  the  bright  spots  of  color  afforded  by  the  Orientals,  some 
of  whom  wore  truly  magnificent  costumes  with  jeweled  chains 
around  their  necks  and  flashing  jewels  in  their  turbans.  From 
the  tribune  Trotzki  reviewed  the  great  parade  which  began  at 
ten  in  the  morning  and  lasted  until  nearly  five  in  the  afternoon. 
First  came  detachments  from  every  branch  of  the  Red  Army, 
including  a  picturesque  regiment  of  Uhlans,  carrying  lances 
with  small  red  pennants;  then  followed  the  militia,  the  armed 
bands  of  factory  workers,  of  whom  there  are  thirty  thousand 
in  Moscow,  and  the  great  mass  of  the  proletariat  representing 
the  twenty-three  trades  unions  and  every  department  of  the 
Soviet  Government.  Each  detachment  marched  with  military 
precision  and  carried  its  own  banners  inscribed  with  Revolu- 
tionary mottoes. 

The  men  nearly  all  had  a  touch  of  red  somewhere  and  the 
women,  of  whom  there  were  thousands,  wore  red  head  ker- 
chiefs. There  were  innumerable  bands  and  when  these  were 
lacking  detachments  marched  by  singing  the  "Red  Flag"  or 
the  "International."  Thousands  of  school  children  and  num- 
bers of  regiments  of  boy  scouts  were  in  line,  representing  the 
Communist  youth.  One  detachment  of  boys  made  a  particu- 
larly good  impression.  They  were  members  of  an  athletic 
organization  and  marched  in  swimming  trunks  only,  displaying 
their  sunburned  muscular  frames  to  great  advantage.  It  was, 
"on  the  surface,  a  wonderful  spontaneous  demonstration  of  the 
power  of  the  proletariat.  Later,  however,  when  I  discovered 
that  the  employees  of  the  Soviet  offices  were  compelled  to  take 
part  in  the  procession  under  threats  of  various  punishments, 
one  of  which  was  that  of  losing  their  weekly  food  ration,  I 
had  some  doubts  about  this  fact.  It  was  undoubtedly  true, 
however,  that  the  great  mass  of  factory  workers  entered  heart 
and  soul  into  the  mood  of  the  demonstration. 

The  pageant  in  the  Red  Square  was  vntnessed  by  few  of 
the  inhabitants  of  Moscow  except  those  who  took  part  in  it. 
Admission  was  by  ticket  only,  all  approaches  were  most  care- 
fully guarded  by  detachments  of  Red  Cavalry  and  infantry, 
and  every  guest's  credentials  were  minutely  scrutinized.    On 


182  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

either  side  of  the  tribunal  was  a  military  exhibit  representing 
every  branch  of  the  Red  Army  service. 

During  the  afternoon  and  evening  the  people  of  Moscow 
were  treated  to  a  series  of  open  air  theatrical  performances; 
special  trolleys,  equipped  with  portable  stage  settings  were 
sent  all  over  the  city;  the  services  of  artists  from  all  the 
theatres  had  been  requisitioned  for  the  day  and  comedies,  op- 
erettas and  vaudeville  performances  were  given  in  all  the 
squares.  Accompanying  each  unit  was  a  Communist  propa- 
gandist, who  talked  to  the  crowd  between  the  acts.  At  night 
under  a  great  arch  which  forms  one  of  the  entrances  to  the 
Kitai  Gorod,  the  walled  enclosure  which  lies  just  east  of  the 
Kremlin,  I  saw  a  wonderful  performance  by  a  workmen's 
dramatic  club  of  the  Greek  tragedy  of  Eschylus,  "Edipus  Tyr- 
annus."  There  was  an  even  more  elaborate  pageant,  so  I  was 
told,  in  Petrograd,  after  which  the  business  of  the  Third  In- 
ternational was  conducted,  in  a  very  sober  manner,  in  the 
Imperial  Palace  at  the  Kremlin. 

Another  impressive  ceremony  which  took  place  at  about 
this  time  was  a  review  by  Trotzki,  in  the  Opera  Square,  of 
five  hundred  graduates  from  the  General  Staff  Officers'  School 
in  Moscow.  I  was  lucky  enough  to  meet  Kamenev  of  the 
Moscow  Soviet  just  before  it  began  and  he  found  an  excel- 
lent place  for  me  on  the  steps  of  the  Opera  House  just  behind 
Trotzki,  While  we  were  waiting  for  the  review  to  begin  I 
had  a  conversation  with  another  Kamenev,  Chief  of  Staff  of 
the  Red  Armies,  He  told  me  something  of  the  plan  of  mili- 
tary training.  Military  service  in  Russia  is  compulsory  for 
all  citizens  between  the  ages  of  eighteen  and  forty.  When 
the  army  is  on  a  peace  footing  the  term  of  active  service  will 
be  six  months,  after  which  the  soldier  becomes  part  of  the  re- 
serves of  the  Red  Army.  These  reserves  are  kept  in  training 
by  compulsory  drill  of  two  hours  a  week.  They  constitute 
what  is  known  as  The  Workers'  Militia.  Officers'  courses  in 
the  General  Staff  school  extend  over  a  period  of  three  years. 
The  period  of  training  for  line  officers  in  the  army  and  the 
reserves  is  from  six  to  eight  months.  The  line  schools  are 
scattered  all  over  Russia.    At  that  time  there  were  nearly  four 


PAGEANTS  AND  PLOTS  183 

hundred  in  operation  and  it  was  planned  to  establish  at  least 
three  hundred  more.  Working  men  and  peasants  as  well  as 
men  of  university  education  are  eligible  for  these  courses  if 
they  show  special  fitness  for  such  training.  Kamenev,  who 
was  formerly  an  officer  in  the  Imperial  Army,  is  a  middle- 
aged  man  of  fine  appearance,  with  all  the  earmarks  of  a  pro- 
fessional soldier,  and  seems  to  take  little  interest  in  politics,  his 
aim  being  merely  to  train  a  first  class  fighting  machine. 

Petrovsky,  chief  of  the  Army  Political  Schools,  whom  I 
met  at  the  same  time,  was,  on  the  contrary,  a  red  hot  Commun- 
ist. He  had  the  supervision  of  most  of  the  two  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  Communists,  who  were  mobilized  and  sent  to  the 
front  in  every  branch  of  the  army  as  political  commissars, 
teachers,  officers,  Red  Cross  men  and  even  as  private  soldiers. 
I  have  already  told  something  of  the  organization  of  the  Army 
Political  Schools  as  I  saw  them  on  the  front. 

All  Moscow  was  thrilled  at  that  time  over  the  exploits  of 
Tukachevski,  who  was  then  starting  his  famous  drive  on 
Warsaw,  and  Budionny,  the  great  cavalry  leader  in  the  Uk- 
raine. Both  had  had  an  equally  meteoric  rise,  and  from  quite 
different  origins.  Tukachevski  was  a  former  Imperial  officer, 
was  taken  prisoner  by  the  Germans  during  the  Great  War,  and 
spent  over  a  year  in  a  prison  camp  at  Magdeburg,  finally  mak- 
ing his  escape  to  Russia  and  offering  his  services  to  the  Red 
Army.  Budionny  was  a  simple  peasant  who  had  been  a  cor- 
poral in  the  old  army.  He  was  retired  from  service  and  re- 
enlisted  voluntarily  to  fight  against  the  Whites,  after  return- 
ing to  his  home  in  the  province  of  Tambov  and  finding  that  his 
father  and  two  brothers  had  been  murdered  in  the  raid  of 
Mamontov's  cavalry. 

The  young  officers  whom  I  saw  on  the  day  of  their  grad- 
uation were  a  rather  fine  looking  lot.  There  were  cavalry,  ar- 
tillery, infantry  and  engineer  officers  among  them.  Their 
khaki  uniforms  were  exceedingly  smart  and  many  of  them 
were  already  wearing  the  new  pointed  cap  with  a  large  red 
star  on  the  front,  somewhat  resembling  the  old  German  hel- 
met.    Their  oath  of  allegiance,  which  was  read  to  them  by 


184  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

Trotzki  and  subscribed  to  by  every  man  present,  standing  at 
salute,  was  as  follows: 

1.  I,  son  of  the  working  people,  citizen  of  the  Soviet  Re- 
public, take  upon  myself  the  name  of  a  warrior  of  the  Workers' 
and  Peasants'  Army. 

2.  Before  the  working  classes  of  Russia  and  of  the  whole 
world  I  undertake  to  carry  this  name  with  honor,  to  follow  the 
military  calling  with  conscience  and  to  preserve  from  damage 
and  robbery  the  national  and  military  possessions  as  the  hair 
of  my  head. 

3.  I  pledge  myself  to  submit  strictly  to  revolutionary  dis- 
cipline and  to  fulfill  without  objection  every  command  issued 
by  authority  of  the  Workers'  and  Peasants'  Government. 

4.  I  undertake  to  abstain  from  and  to  deter  any  act  liable 
to  dishonor  the  name  of  citizen  of  the  Soviet  Republic;  more- 
over, to  direct  all  my  deeds  and  thoughts  to  the  great  aim  of 
liberation  of  all  workers. 

5.  I  pledge  myself  to  the  defense  of  the  Soviet  Republic 
in  any  danger  of  assault  on  the  part  of  any  of  her  enemies  at 
the  first  call  of  the  Workers'  and  Peasants'  Government,  and 
undertake  not  to  spare  myself  in  the  struggle  for  the  Russian 
Soviet  Republic,  for  the  aims  of  Socialism  and  the  Brother- 
hood of  Nations  to  the  extent  of  my  full  strength  and  of  my 
life. 

6.  Should  this  promise  be  broken,  let  my  fate  be  the  scorn 
of  my  fellows.  Let  my  punishment  be  the  stern  hand  of 
revolutionary  law. 

That  the  Bolsheviks  intend  to  make  Russia  a  nation  of 
soldiers  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  military  training  does  not 
by  any  means  begin  with  the  attainment  of  the  age  for  mili- 
tary service.  The  Boy  Scout  movement  which  is  under  the 
supervision  of  the  remarkable  organization  known  as  the  Com- 
munist Youth,  is  very  widespread  in  Russia.  Boys  up  to  the 
age  of  sixteen  combine  physical  and  military  training  in  these 
Scout  organizations,  and  it  was  interesting  to  note  that  they 
had  preserved  the  fleur  de  lis,  the  international  symbol  of  the 
Boy  Scouts,  as  their  insignia.  Boys  from  sixteen  to  eighteen 
also  receive  a  certain  amount  of  military  training  in  the  clubs 
of  the  Communist  Youth,  or,  if  they  are  industrial  workers, 


PAGEANTS  AND  PLOTS  185 

in  their  factory  organizations.  There  are  a  number  of  Girl 
Guides,  corresponding  to  our  Campfire  Girls,  and  a  few  women 
are  in  the  regular  militia  and  the  workers'  reserve. 

The  internal  situation  meanwhile  was  growing  far  from 
satisfactory.  The  Red  Army  drive  on  Warsaw,  during  which 
Tukachevski  extended  his  army  in  a  long  narrow  wedge  reach- 
ing nearly  to  the  German  border,  was  recognized  as  an  impos- 
sible tactical  position.  When  the  offensive  was  undertaken 
the  government  was  counting  on  an  immediate  revolution  in 
Poland.  This  idea  was  so  firmly  rooted  in  the  minds  of  the 
Bolshevik  leaders  that,  after  taking  Minsk,  a  Polish  committee, 
headed  by  Djerzhinsky  and  Marklevski,  were  sent  to  the  occu- 
pied territory  and  published  a  proclamation  proclaiming  Soviet 
government  in  Poland.  It  was  expected  that  the  army  sup- 
ported by  the  peasants  would  mutiny  and  start  a  revolution. 
It  turned  out  that  the  Communists  were  misinformed  as  to 
the  strength  of  the  revolutionary  movement,  and  they  miscal- 
culated in  this  respect,  falling  as  far  short  of  realizing  the 
actual  situation  in  Poland  as  they  did  that  in  Germany,  when 
they  signed  the  peace  of  Brest-Litovsk. 

After  the  failure  of  the  Warsaw  drive  there  was  much  dis- 
content in  the  army,  stimulated  by  the  reduction  of  the  food 
rations,  the  lack  of  equipment,  particularly  in  shoes,  and  the 
long  drawn  out  armistice  negotiations.  In  August  there  was 
a  mutiny  in  the  Moscow  garrison,  owing  to  the  fact  that  straw 
slippers  known  as  "lapiti"  were  given  out  to  the  soldiers  instead 
of  boots.  Several  regiments  on  the  Western  front  held  meet- 
ings and  sent  a  delegation  to  Moscow  to  protest  against  the 
reduction  in  food  rations.  The  delegation  was  arrested  and 
several  of  the  members  shot,  whereupon  the  front  line  regi- 
ments arrested  their  political  commissars,  threatening  to  hold 
them  until  their  comrades  in  Moscow  were  released,  and  this 
was  done.  Mass  desertions  took  place  among  regiments  leav- 
ing for  the  front.  One  regiment  passing  through  Moscow  lost 
over  five  hundred  men  between  that  city  and  the  front.  Re- 
serve troops  were  not  given  rifles  until  they  reached  the  front 
lines  for  fear  they  might  start  trouble  en  route.     This  state 


186  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

of  affairs  in  the  army  is  nothing  new,  however,  and  it  was  one 
of  the  difficulties  that  had  to  be  contended  with  throughout 
the  Great  War. 

Wrangel  was  making  some  progress  on  the  Crimean  front 
and  his  raid  in  the  direction  of  the  Caucasus,  while  not  suc- 
cessful, caused  an  unsettled  condition  in  that  part  of  the  coun- 
try. Moscow  seethed  with  plots  of  all  descriptions.  One  day 
in  the  Petrovka  several  armed  men  in  an  automobile  held  up 
a  government  truck  which  was  transporting  three  hundred 
million  roubles  and  got  away  with  their  booty.  The  money 
was  afterwards  recovered  in  a  rather  curious  manner.  Some 
children  in  one  of  the  suburbs  of  Moscow  were  holding  the 
funeral  of  a  pet  cat  and  started  to  dig  the  grave  on  a  vacant 
lot  a  short  distance  from  their  home.  They  chose  a  spot 
which  looked  as  if  someone  had  been  digging  there  a  short 
time  before.  About  a  foot  underneath  the  surface  they  struck 
something  hard.  "Hidden  treasure,"  they  said,  and  began  to 
dig  harder  than  ever.  It  was  indeed  hidden  treasure,  for  it 
proved  to  be  the  entire  sum  which  had  evidently  been  placed 
there  during  the  night  by  the  bandits  for  temporary  safe  keep- 
ing. The  Soviet  authorities  gave  it  out  that  this  robbery  was 
political  in  character  and  had  been  committed  by  the  Social 
Revolutionaries  for  the  purpose  of  securing  funds  for  party 
propaganda. 

As  the  weather  was  very  warm,  we  often  had  tea  parties 
in  the  garden  at  the  Horitonevsky.  One  Sunday  afternoon  at 
about  six  o'clock,  as  we  were  peacefully  sipping  tea,  we  were 
startled  by  a  series  of  terrific  explosions,  developing  into  what 
sounded  like  a  regular  bombardment.  The  large  plate  glass 
windows  in  our  house  rattled  like  castanets,  a  dense  cloud  of 
smoke  could  be  seen  to  the  northwest,  and  evil  looking  little 
white  rings  rose  in  the  air  bursting  with  a  horrible  noise.  As 
the  thing  grew  worse  one  of  our  windows  went,  then  we  could 
hear  the  sound  of  breaking  glass  in  all  directions.  Evidently 
something  terrible  had  happened.  A  few  nervous  individuals 
suggested  that  the  Poles  might  be  coming,  for  it  was  then  well 
known  that  they  had  pushed  some  distance  east  of  Minsk  in 
the  Beresina  offensive,  but  we  at  once  dismissed  this  idea  as 


PAGEANTS  AND  PLOTS  187 

impossible.  The  telephone  was  temporarily  out  of  commis- 
sion ;  so,  curiosity  getting  the  better  of  us,  although  there  was 
considerable  danger  in  the  streets  from  breaking  glass  and 
bits  of  cornices  dislodged  by  the  concussion,  we  started  for  the 
Foreign  Office  to  find  out  what  was  the  matter.  On  the  way 
we  met  many  frightened  groups  of  people,  and  one  or  two 
who  had  been  badly  cut  by  pieces  of  broken  glass.  Wild  ru- 
mors were  current,  chiefly  of  a  Polish  plot  to  blow  up  all  Mos- 
cow. When  we  arrived  at  the  Foreign  Office  we  found  that 
there  had  been  an  explosion  at  Hodinka,  the  large  munition 
depot,  about  eight  versts  from  the  city.  About  fifty  persons, 
chiefly  guards,  had  been  killed.  Detachments  of  the  militia 
had  been  sent  to  stop  the  resulting  conflagration  and  prevent  the 
explosion  from  spreading  to  a  still  larger  depot,  and  the  avia- 
tion station  nearby.  It  was  said  frankly,  that  if  the  fire  could 
not  be  stopped  there  would  be  serious  danger  to  Moscow. 
Meanwhile  the  town  was  put  under  military  law,  and  people 
warned  to  keep  off  the  streets  unless  on  urgent  business.  All 
that  night  the  explosions  continued  and  it  was  only  by  early 
morning  that  their  decreasing  frequency  made  us  realize  that 
the  situation  must  be  under  control.  The  bombardment  kept 
up  at  intervals  until  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day.  Hundreds 
of  arrests  were  made  in  connection  with  the  affair,  which 
turned  out  to  have  been  a  Polish  plot  for  which  three  Poles, 
three  Russians  and  three  Jews,  were  eventually  executed. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
A  MODERN  BABEL 

Anyone  who  imagines  that  the  isolation  of  Russia  from 
the  rest  of  the  world  is  anything  more  than  a  material  isola- 
tion is  very  much  mistaken.  Moscow  is  probably  today  the 
most  cosmopolitan  city  of  Europe.  I  certainly  found  it  so 
during  the  summer  of  1920.  The  meeting  of  the  Third  In- 
ternational brought  delegates  from  every  part  of  the  world, 
as  well  as  hosts  of  sympathizers  and  foreign  journalists.  There 
were  peace  delegations,  labor  delegations,  business  men,  repre- 
sentatives of  oppressed  nationalities  and  political  minorities, 
propagandists,  crooks  and  idealists  from  the  four  quarters  of 
the  globe. 

During  the  Latvian  peace  negotiations,  wKicn  took  place 
in  June,  I  met  Yoffe,  head  of  the  Russian  delegation.  Yoffe 
is  Russia's  professional  peace  negotiator,  having  conducted 
the  negotiations  with  Esthonia,  Latvia,  Lithuania  and  Poland. 
He  is  a  Jew,  short,  thick  set,  bearded,  with  keen  brown  eyes 
and  a  rather  prepossessing  manner,  and  was  a  frequent  visi- 
tor at  our  house,  where  his  young  daughter  and  his  first  wife 
from  whom  he  had  been  divorced  two  years  previously,  were 
living.  She  and  her  daughter,  who  was  just  recovering  from 
an  attack  of  typhus,  occupied  the  two  best  rooms  and  had  all 
their  meals  served  in  their  apartment.  When  they  went  out  a 
motor  always  came  for  them. 

Madame  Yoffe  was  beautifully  dressed,  she  was  very  pretty, 
a  wonderful  musician  and  distinctly  bourgeoise  in  manner  and 
appearance.  It  was  in  her  sitting  room,  where  he  came  for 
tea  practically  every  evening,  that  I  had  my  talk  with  Yoffe. 
The  fact  that  he  had  another  wife  in  Petrograd  did  not  in  the 
least  disturb  their  amicable  relations. 

I  found  him  very  alert  and  intelligent,  a  born  diplomatist. 
He  was  interested  in  all  national  questions  and  was  par- 

188 


A  MODERN  BABEL  189 

ticularly  enthusiastic  about  a  proposition  he  had  made  on  be- 
half of  Russia  at  the  Latvian  conference  for  the  cancellation 
of  all  war  obligations  and  indemnities  by  the  nations  of  the 
world.  His  ideas  in  this  respect,  he  told  me,  exactly  coincided 
with  those  of  the  English  author,  Mr.  Keynes,  whose  book  he 
had  read  with  great  interest,  and  he  asked  me  what  impres- 
sion it  had  produced  in  America. 

I  saw  a  great  deal  of  the  members  of  the  Latvian  delega- 
tion which  stopped  at  the  Savoy  where  they  had  an  entire  floor 
to  themselves.  They  had  brought  their  own  provisions  and 
servants  and  had  their  meals  served  in  their  own  dining  room. 
Every  day  they  were  taken  in  a  big  motor  bus  to  the  home  of 
Horitonev,  the  sugar  king,  on  the  Sofiskaya  Naberezhnaya, 
where  the  peace  parleys  were  held.  At  night  they  were  fre- 
quently the  guests  of  the  Foreign  Office  at  the  theater  or  the 
opera,  but  none  of  them  was  allowed  to  walk  in  the  streets  or 
visit  private  homes. 

They  could  not  receive  any  visitors  unless  the  latter  had 
special  permission  from  the  Foreign  Office,  and  their  callers 
were  compelled  to  register  in  conformity  with  the  regulations 
in  force  in  all  the  government  guest  houses  in  Moscow.  Every 
caller  at  these  places  must  register  with  the  soldier  from  the 
Checka  who  is  on  guard  at  the  door,  his  name,  address,  occupa- 
tion and  the  nature  of  his  business,  and  show  his  documents 
of  identity  or  "permis  de  sejour."  He  surrenders  these  docu- 
ments on  entering,  receiving  them  on  leaving  the  building, 
when  the  length  of  his  stay  is  recorded  opposite  the  informa- 
tion already  furnished.  These  lists  are  turned  in  daily  to  the 
Checka  and  enable  it  to  keep  in  touch  with  the  activities  of 
foreigners  and  the  extent  of  their  intercourse  with  Russians. 

Negotiations  with  Latvia  dragged  on  for  several  months, 
the  chief  objects  of  discussion  being  the  economic  provisions 
of  the  treaty.  Finally  it  was  signed  and  the  negotiations  with 
Lithuania  began.  They  were  successfully  concluded  in  a  few 
weeks. 

Meanwhile  other  negotiations  no  less  interesting  than 
Yoffe's  were  going  on.  The  Russian  Government  had  openly 
espoused  the  cause  of  the  Turkish  nationalists  in  Anatolia  and 


190  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

the  notorious  Djemal  Pasha,  accompanied  by  Halel  Pasha  and 
an  effendi,  arrived  in  Moscow  to  secure  recognition  of  the 
Angora  Government  under  Mustapha  Kemal. 

I  found  Djemal  a  most  charming  person,  frankly  bour- 
geois and  nationalistic  in  his  ideas,  and  making  no  secret  of 
his  motives  for  seeking  an  alliance  with  Soviet  Russia. 

"Aren't  you  afraid  of  the  spread  of  Bolshevik  propaganda 
in  Asia  Minor  if  you  sign  a  treaty  with  the  Soviet  Govern- 
ment?" I  asked  him. 

"My  dear  lady,"  he  said  suavely,  "if  your  house  is  on 
fire,  do  you  ask  the  politics  of  the  man  who  comes  to  help 
you  put  it  out?" 

His  one  aim,  open  and  avowed,  was  to  secure  assistance 
against  the  British  controlled  government  at  Constantinople, 
and  he  did  not  care  on  what  terms  he  got  it.  As  for  the  dan- 
ger of  Bolshevist  propaganda,  he  was  counting  on  conservative 
Islam  to  take  care  of  that.  He  was  very  careful  to  remove 
from  my  mind  any  idea  that  he  was  pro-German,  claiming 
that  the  Turks  were  forced  into  the  position  of  becoming  allies 
of  the  Germans  in  the  Great  War;  that  after  the  war  he  and 
Enver  and  Talaat  had  wished  to  come  to  an  understanding 
with  England,  but  had  been  driven  by  British  imperialism  back 
into  the  arms  of  Germany. 

The  Persian  peace  delegation  arrived  shortly  after,  then 
the  Chinese,  with  a  special  train  loaded  with  rice  and  tea,  which 
they  sold  quite  openly  at  speculative  prices  in  Moscow,  no 
doubt  paying  their  expenses  for  the  entire  trip.  At  this  time 
an  agreement  was  concluded  between  the  Soviet  Government 
and  the  Peking  Government,  under  which  the  latter  was  to 
operate  the  Eastern  Chinese  railroad,  wherein  the  former 
Imperial  Russian  Government  had  a  large  interest.  Simul- 
taneously, I  believe,  negotiations,  less  open  in  character,  were 
going  on  with  the  Southern  Chinese  Government. 

Then  there  were  the  Boukharans  to  whom  I  have  already 
referred,  and  the  Khivans,  who  had  about  this  time  made  a 
Soviet  revolution  to  order.  Later  when  the  Khan  of  Khiva 
came  to  Moscow  he  was  arrested  and  interned  in  the  Andron- 
ovski  camp,  just  why  I  was  never  able  to  discover. 


A  MODERN  BABEL  191 

The  delegate  from  Afghanistan  was  most  picturesque,  tall, 
slender,  dark,  with  wonderful  eyes,  and  he  spoke  English 
fairly  well.  One  day  I  met  him  in  the  Savoy  Hotel  and  he 
invited  me  to  tea,  whereupon  he  began  what  I  presume  was  a 
typical  Afghan  courtship.  This  was  the  substance  of  our 
conversation : 

"You  long  in  Moscow?"  he  asked. 

"Four  months,"  I  told  him. 

"You  got  husband  at  home?" 

"No." 

"You  find  a  man  here  ?" 

"No." 

"You  young,  and  you  look  healthy,  I  got  plenty  wives  in 
Afghanistan,  but  here  it  is  very  lonely.  I  don't  want  Russian 
woman — I  always  wanted  English  woman.  We  marry  now, 
what  you  say?  We  stay  married  while  I'm  here  or  I  take  you 
back  to  Afghanistan.    Fine  country.    You  be  first  wife." 

All  this  time  he  was  coming  nearer  and  nearer  with  the 
most  intense  expression  which  did  not  take  my  fancy  by  any 
means.  I  told  him  I'd  have  to  think  it  over  until  the  next 
day,  then  made  my  escape  as  soon  as  I  could. 

There  were  other  delegates  not  as  official,  but  just  as  Im- 
portant and  more  mysterious.  For  example.  Dr.  Mansur,  an 
Indian  nationalist  of  whom  I  have  already  spoken,  who  lived 
at  the  Savoy,  lectured  at  the  General  Staff  College  in  Moscow, 
and  conducted  courses  in  the  Foreign  Office  school  of  Oriental 
languages.  He  was  always  busy  receiving  couriers  and  mys- 
terious individuals  who  came  from  Berlin  and  Tashkend  where 
there  was  a  Far  Eastern  Soviet  propaganda  center.  Mansur 
was  very  intimate  with  Meyerhoeffer,  who  had  stayed  on  in 
Russia  after  he  was  superseded  by  the  official  Austrian  Mis- 
sion. He  was  a  Moslem  convert  and  a  strong  supporter  of 
Pan-Islamism  and  was  also  in  receipt  of  constant  communica- 
tions from  India,  Asia  Minor,  Vienna  and  Berlin. 

The  Sinn  Feiners  had  their  delegation  and  were  often  in 
conference  with  Soviet  leaders.  So  also  were  the  Korean  na- 
tionalists whose  leader,  Pak,  I  knew  very  well.     Mexico  was 


192  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

represented  by  M.  N.  Roy,  an  East  Indian,  with  a  handsome 
Mexican  wife. 

Besides  the  British  Labor  Delegation  there  was  an  official 
Italian  Labor  delegation,  and  I  saw  something  of  several  of 
the  members,  among  them  Dugoni,  one  of  the  Serratists  who 
were  exceedingly  unpopular  with  Moscow.  At  that  time  were 
laid  the  foundations  for  the  open  breach  which  later  took  place 
in  the  Italian  Socialist  party.  Lenin  was  pressing  the  delega- 
tion to  support  a  revolution  in  Italy ;  the  more  moderate  mem- 
bers represented  to  him  the  impossibility  of  attempting  to  in- 
augurate a  Soviet  regime  in  Italy  without  the  assurance  of  the 
support  of  other  countries.  Italy,  they  said,  had  a  supply  of 
coal  for  three  weeks,  bread  for  a  month,  and  raw  materials 
for  six  weeks,  and  an  attempt  at  revolution  would  only  result 
in  an  economic  blockade  which  would  starve  out  Italy  in  a 
short  time.  In  spite  of  these  statements  the  abortive  attempt 
to  seize  control  of  the  factories  by  the  Italian  working  men 
was  made  in  the  summer  of  1920  at  the  instigation  of  Moscow. 

The  Italians,  like  the  British,  lived  at  the  Dyelavoi  Dvor, 
formerly  one  of  the  best  hotels  in  the  city,  which  was  reserved 
for  Trades  Union  and  Third  International  delegates.  I  was 
forbidden  to  go  there,  but  I  nevertheless  was  a  frequent  visitor 
and  this  did  not  help  to  make  me  popular  with  the  authorities. 
The  Italians  brought  all  their  own  food,  had  macaroni  and 
chianti  every  day.  Like  other  foreign  visitors  who  remain 
a  short  time  they  had  no  idea  of  the  privations  and  difficulties 
of  the  ordinary  citizen  in  Moscow. 

A  German  labor  delegation  was  at  the  Savoy.  The  Ger- 
mans were  all  working  men,  mostly  Communists  and  they  had 
come  to  draw  up  a  convention  with  the  Soviet  Government  for 
mass  colonization  in  Russia.  Negotiations  between  them  and 
the  All  Russian  Council  of  Trades  Unions  dragged  on  for  a 
long  time  without  results.  The  Germans  wished  to  take  over 
control  of  entire  factories  with  their  own  personnel  and  to  es- 
tablish their  own  colonies.  Russian  living  quarters  did  not 
suit  them;  they  demanded  the  right  to  obtain  building  mate- 
rials, construct  their  own  homes,  run  their  own  cooperatives, 
and  to  bring  a  certain  amount  of  money  into  the  country  with 


A  MODERN  BABEL  193 

them.  All  these  demands  were  not  agreed  to  by  the  Soviet 
authorities.  Meanwhile  they  were  quietly  investigating  condi- 
tions for  themselves,  and  it  was  evident  that,  while  thoroughly 
in  sympathy  with  Communistic  principles,  their  orderly  Ger- 
man ideas,  deeply  rooted  in  tradition  and  strengthened  by 
training,  could  not  be  adjusted  to  the  life  about  them. 

One  of  them  said  to  me :  "It's  all  very  fine  for  everyone 
to  be  a  productive  worker,  but  I  consider  that  my  wife  who 
runs  my  home  and  bears  my  children  is  just  as  much  of  a 
productive  worker  as  if  she  worked  in  an  office  or  factory.  I 
don't  want  her  to  go  out  to  work.  I  don't  want  to  eat  in  a 
public  dining  room ;  I  want  her  to  stay  home  and  cook  for  me. 
It  may  be  that  I  can  buy  just  as  good  shirts  at  one  of  the  gov- 
ernment stores  as  she  makes,  but  she's  always  made  my  shirts 
and  I  like  the  way  she  makes  them.  It  may  be  all  right  to 
have  your  socks  mended  and  your  suspender  buttons  sewed  on 
at  a  cooperative  mending  shop,  but  I  like  the  way  she  does 
it.  I'm  not  a  religious  man,  but  I  want  to  have  my  children 
left  free  in  matters  of  religion.  I  don't  want  them  taught 
Atheism  any  more  than  I  want  them  taught  Catholicism  or 
Lutheranism." 

This  was  the  attitude  of  most  of  the  Germans  and,  owing 
to  this  as  well  as  political  and  economic  reasons,  the  German 
scheme  for  mass  colonization  was  temporarily,  at  least,  aban- 
doned. 

For  a  time  Cachin  and  Froissard,  the  French  Communist 
delegates,  stayed  at  my  guest  house,  and  while  they  were 
there  it  served  as  a  rendezvous  for  all  the  French  Communists 
in  Moscow.  Among  them  was  Jacques  Sadoul,  who  had  come 
up  from  Kharkov,  where  he  was  stationed  as  military  adviser 
for  the  Ukrainian  Government.  I  suppose  there  has  been  more 
speculation  about  the  attitude  of  Sadoul  towards  the  Soviet 
government  than  any  of  the  other  foreign  Communists  in 
Russia.  He  was  attached  to  the  French  Military  Mission,  in 
Russia  during  the  Great  War.  At  the  time  of  the  March  Rev- 
olution he  declared  himself  in  favor  of  the  revolutionists  and 
afterwards  went  over  to  the  Bolsheviks.  In  his  absence  he 
was  tried  and  condemned  to  death  by  a  military  court  martial 


194  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

in  France,  and  of  course,  whatever  his  convictions,  he  has 
burned  his  bridges  and  can  never  return  to  his  own  country 
unless  there  is  a  revokition. 

Sadoui  is,  in  appearance,  a  most  attractive  person.  He  is 
short,  rather  thick  set,  blond,  with  a  ruddy  complexion,  with 
clear  blue  eyes,  rather  the  Norman  type.  In  conversation  he 
is  very  animated,  and  extremely  genial.  He  struck  me  as  being 
thoroughly  happy,  absolutely  at  ease  in  his  strange  surround- 
ings. He  was  dressed,  when  I  saw  him,  in  a  knickerbocker 
suit  of  English  tweeds,  with  woolen  golf  stockings,  and  smart 
brown  shoes  that  betokened  a  rather  fastidious  care  of  ap- 
pearances. He  was  more  interested  in  hearing  from  the 
Frenchmen  all  about  the  latest  happenings  in  Paris,  even  down 
to  what  was  playing  at  the  theaters,  than  in  talking  politics. 
With  regard  to  Russia  he  expressed  himself  as  convinced  that 
Communism  of  the  military  stamp  was  the  only  force  which 
could  keep  the  country  from  lapsing  into  chaos. 

His  wife,  who  had  arrived  from  Paris  with  his  brother, 
some  weeks  before,  was  a  Parisienne  to  her  finger  tips,  beau- 
tifully dressed  and  seemed  decidedly  out  of  place  in  her  sur- 
roundings. She  impressed  me  as  being  Communistic  rather 
out  of  loyalty  to  her  husband  than  from  personal  convictions 
and  complained  bitterly  of  the  persecutions  she  had  been  sub- 
jected to  in  Paris  on  his  account.  Monsieur  Sadoui,  the 
brother,  reminded  me  more  of  a  floor  walker  from  the  Bon 
Marche  than  anything  else.  He  was  a  timid,  delicate  looking 
little  man,  and  was  the  only  person  I  saw  in  Russia  who 
wore  a  frock  coat  and  stiff  collar.  Black  bread  and  kasha  dis- 
agreed with  him ;  he  was  evidently  bewildered  and  not  a  little 
frightened  by  the  strange  new  forces  with  which  he  found  him- 
self in  contact,  and  I  think  he  heartily  wished  he  was  back  on 
the  Boulevard  Raspail,  talking  about  Socialism  in  a  cafe. 

Rene  Marchand,  who  is  one  of  the  ablest  French  publicists 
in  Russia,  gave  me  quite  a  different  impression  from  that 
which  I  received  from  Sadoui.  For  some  years  before  the 
Revolution  he  was  correspondent  for  the  Paris  Temps  in 
Petrograd ;  he  also  was  mysteriously  converted,  publishing  his 
declaration  of  faith  in  a  rather  remarkable  pamphlet  entitled 


A  MODERN  BABEL  195 

"Why  I  rallied  to  the  formula  of  the  Social  Revolution."  He 
is  a  tall,  dark,  distinguished  looking  man,  who  says  very  little 
and  appears  at  times  to  be  suffering  under  a  great  nervous 
strain.  He  lives  simply  and  very  poorly  with  his  wife  and 
children,  at  the  former  Hotel  Metropole,  works  very  hard,  and 
sees  few  visitors.  Judging  purely  from  superficial  indications 
I  would  be  inclined  to  believe  the  gossip  current  in  certain 
circles  which  has  it  that  Marchand's  conversion  to  Commu- 
nism was  due  to  pressure  rather  than  to  conviction. 

Pascal,  the  Frenchman  who  writes  the  "letters"  that  are 
sent  out  periodically  by  Soviet  radio  describing  social,  political 
and  economic  conditions  in  Russia,  is  a  suave,  exceedingly 
agreeable  man.  He  was  formerly  a  priest,  more  lately  member 
of  the  French  Military  Mission  to  Petrograd,  and  is  now  a 
Communist.  Strange  to  say,  he  has  remained  a  stanch  Cath- 
olic and  goes  to  mass  every  Sunday. 

The  most  energetic  and  able  of  the  French  Communists  in 
Russia  is  Henri  Guilbeaux.  He  has  rather  an  interesting  his- 
tory. During  the  war  he  was  on  the  staff  of  a  French  news- 
paper, and  took  part  in  the  Zimmerwaldian  movement,  attend- 
ing the  congress.  For  this  and  for  alleged  treasonable  corre- 
spondence with  German  Socialists,  charges  were  preferred 
against  him  and  he  was  compelled  to  leave  France.  He  re- 
mained for  some  time  in  Switzerland  and  then  drifted  to 
Russia.  He  is  an  occasional  correspondent  of  UHumanite,  Le 
Populaire,  and  other  French  Socialist  papers.  He  is  always 
chosen  by  the  Soviet  Government  to  show  around  distinguished 
French-speaking  Socialist  visitors.  He  is  extremely  cultivated, 
being  an  author  of  some  distinction,  very  witty,  and  an  able 
propagandist. 

One  of  the  most  picturesque  delegates  to  the  International 
was  the  veteran  German  Revolutionary,  Clara  Zetkin,  She  is 
a  fat  little  German  Hausfrau  in  appearance,  and  always  wears 
a  black  silk  dress,  with  a  lace  collar  and  a  large  cameo  brooch. 
Her  cheeks  are  as  ruddy  as  winter  apples  and  her  gray  hair 
is  parted  and  drawn  to  a  demure  little  knot  at  the  back  of  her 
head.    In  spite  of  her  seventy-six  years  her  speaking  voice  is 


196  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

wonderfully  clear  and  she  is  just  as  full  of  revolutionary  fire 
and  spirit  as  if  she  were  sixteen,  instead  of  seventy-six. 

I  also  saw  something  of  Belin  and  Stoklitski,  American 
delegates  to  the  International.  Belin  was  a  quiet,  unassuming 
man  with  a  rather  attractive  personality.  I  was  told  that  he 
was  a  Norwegian  by  birth.  It  seemed  to  me,  judging  from  his 
conversation,  that  he  was  giving  the  Soviet  authorities  a  rather 
exaggerated  idea  of  the  importance  of  the  Communist  move- 
ment in  America.  McLean  and  Quelch,  two  of  the  English 
Communists,  were  very  alert,  intelligent  men.  Most  of  the 
other  Anglo-Saxon  delegates  whom  I  met  were  either  natural- 
ized Russian  Jews,  or  immature  youths,  who  seemed  to  regard 
Communism  rather  in  the  light  of  a  great  adventure.  All  the 
delegates  made  a  sort  of  club  house  of  the  headquarters  of  the 
Third  International  in  the  Dyeneshni  Pereoulak,  formerly  the 
home  of  Count  Mirbach,  the  German  Ambassador,  who  was 
assassinated  in  1918.  I  was  never  allowed  to  set  foot  within 
its  sacred  precincts. 

I  did  not  meet  Zinoviev,  the  chairman  of  the  Congress, 
but  I  frequently  heard  him  speak  at  meetings.  He  is  a  rug- 
ged, unprepossessing  looking  individual  of  a  distinctly  Jewish 
type,  with  an  extremely  forceful,  dominating  personality.  It 
is  this  quality  which  has  given  him  his  present  position.  Zino- 
viev is  not  popular  either  among  his  colleagues  or  among  the 
working  classes.  Several  times  during  the  summer  at  meet- 
ings in  Petrograd  he  was  hooted  down  by  factory  workmen. 
Once  he  appeared  at  a  meeting  wearing  one  of  the  black 
leather  coats  that  are  much  affected  by  the  Red  Army  men 
and  commissars.  He  spoke  of  the  fact  that  it  was  necessary 
for  the  workers  to  make  great  sacrifices  to  assure  the  prosper- 
ity of  the  Soviet  Republic.  "Suppose  the  fellow  in  the 
leather  jacket  sets  us  the  example,"  shouted  a  voice  in  the 
audience. 

Among  the  foreign  visitors  at  my  guest  house  at  this  time 
was  a  Hungarian  journaHst  named  Holitscher.  He  was  a 
very  delightful  person ;  sympathetic,  but  not  blind  to  the  flaws 
in  the  Soviet  Government;  more  of  a  literary  man  than  a  poli- 
tician.   Through  him  I  met  Dr.  Varga,  formerly  Commissar 


A  MODERN  BABEL  197 

of  Education  in  the  short-lived  Hungarian  Communist  ex- 
periment. He  was  a  dark,  intense  Httle  man,  one  of  those  to 
whom  Marxism  is  a  cult,  but  apart  from  his  fanaticism  he  was 
a  man  of  broad  general  culture,  quite  different  from  Bela  Kun, 
whom  I  saw  very  often.  The  latter  impressed  me  as  being  a 
decidedly  coarse,  materialistic  person,  very  much  of  an  oppor- 
tunist. 

There  were  also  several  French  correspondents  and  two 
Italians,  Dodone  of  the  Corriere  delta  Sera,  and  Panunzio  of 
the  Socialist  paper  Avanti.  Dodone,  who  was  formerly  an 
Italian  officer,  was  under  house  arrest  during  his  entire  stay 
which  was  limited  to  the  prescribed  two  weeks  for  correspond- 
ents. Panunzio  stayed  longer  and  his  visit  terminated  in  a 
rather  unpleasant  experience.  At  the  time  of  the  Polish  armi- 
stice negotiations  at  Minsk  he  went  with  several  other  cor- 
respondents to  attend  the  conference,  intending,  so  he  told  me, 
to  go  directly  from  Minsk  to  Petrograd  and  leave  the  country. 

About  four  weeks  afterwards  I  was  startled  to  see  Panun- 
zio appear  in  my  room  one  morning,  haggard,  dirty,  collar- 
less  and  with  a  scraggly  beard.  He  told  me  that  he  had  been 
arrested  in  Minsk  by  the  Checka  without  a  word  of  explana- 
tion, and  brought  back  to  Moscow,  where  he  was  imprisoned 
for  three  weeks  in  the  Lubianka  2,  accused,  much  to  his  amaze- 
ment, of  espionage.  He  was  not  allowed  to  communicate  with 
any  of  his  Socialist  friends,  and  would  probably  have  been 
there  indefinitely,  except  for  the  fact  that  his  interpreter,  to 
whom  he  had  promised  to  write  from  Petrograd  on  a  matter 
of  business,  grew  suspicious  and  reported  her  fears  to  the 
members  of  the  Italian  Socialist  Delegation  then  in  Moscow, 
with  the  result  that  explanations  were  forthcoming  and  Pan- 
unzio was  set  at  liberty.  It  seemed  that,  while  he  was  in 
Minsk  the  Avanti  had  published  a  despatch  with  Moscow  date 
line  in  which  were  given  statistics  and  information  as  to 
strength,  equipment,  distribution  and  morale  of  the  Red  Army. 
Although  it  was  not  signed  and  it  was  proved  later  to  have 
been  written  by  the  Riga  correspondent  of  the  paper,  Panun- 
zio was  suspected  of  being  the  author.     It  was  thought  that 


198  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

he  had  illegal  means  of  sending  correspondence  out  of  Russia 
and  he  was  detained  on  suspicion. 

One  day  I  went  with  Beach  and  Turner,  two  representa- 
tives of  the  English  shop  stewards,  to  meet  two  members  of 
the  Executive  Committee  of  the  Right  Social  Revolutionaries. 
These  men  were  wanted  by  the  Bolshevik  authorities,  so  there 
was  considerable  mystery  about  it.  We  met  by  appointment 
in  one  of  the  squares  in  Moscow  a  Jewish  gentleman,  profes- 
sedly a  Menshevik,  and  formerly  the  correspondent  of  the 
United  Telegraph  Company  in  Petrograd.  In  view  of  what 
happened  later  and  of  several  other  circumstances  I  am  in- 
clined to  think  he  was  playing  quite  another  role,  and  was  prob- 
ably an  agent  of  the  Extraordinary  Commission, 

We  accompanied  him  for  several  blocks,  when  he  disap- 
peared, after  telling  us  to  follow  a  young  lady  in  a  blue  head 
kerchief  who  was  strolling  apparently  unconcernedly  up  the 
street.  Presently  she  disappeared  inside  of  an  arched  door- 
way. We  did  the  same,  following  at  a  safe  distance.  Once 
inside  of  the  hallway  at  the  back  of  the  court,  she  turned  to 
us,  and  told  us  that  she  would  take  us  to  an  apartment  upstairs, 
where  we  would  meet  our  men.  I  acted  as  interpreter  for  the 
Britishers,  during  our  half  hour  talk,  after  which  they  were 
obliged  to  leave  and  I  stayed  on  for  a  cup  of  tea  with  the  two 
Russians  and  our  hostess,  a  teacher  in  the  apartment  which 
was  used  as  a  kindergarten.  When  I  left  I  found  two  soldiers 
armed  with  rifles  in  the  hall. 

"Where  did  you  come  from?"  they  asked.    I  told  them. 

"Well,  you  must  go  back  and  stay,"  said  one  of  them. 
"There  is  a  raid  of  the  Checka  on  and  no  one  will  be  allowed 
to  leave  the  building." 

Meanwhile  anyone  was  allowed  to  enter;  perfectly  inno- 
cent people  calling  on  their  friends  were  detained  pending  a 
room  to  room  search.  I  went  back  to  my  friends,  and  found 
that  the  two  Social  Revolutionaries  had  disappeared  as  if  by 
magic.  The  teacher,  evidently  very  much  alarmed,  was  still 
there,  so  we  sat  down  and  decided  to  make  the  best  of  it. 

In  a  few  minutes  two  soldiers  accompanied  by  a  civil 
agent  of  the  Checka  and  the  Chairman  of  the  Housing  Com- 


A  MODERN  BABEL  199 

mittce  appeared  and  searched  the  apartment  from  end  to  end. 
Not  a  drawer  was  left  unopened,  not  a  paper  escaped  scrutiny, 
and  they  even  went  through  the  children's  work  and  kinder- 
garten material.  Pictures  were  taken  off  the  wall  and  exam- 
ined, mattresses  and  pillows  felt  for  concealed  papers  or  docu- 
ments; not  a  nook  or  cranny  was  left  uninspected.  Unfor- 
tunately some  compromising  papers  were  found  in  the  teach- 
er's desk  and  at  the  same  moment  her  husband  arrived  most 
inopportunely.  They  were  both  arrested  and  taken  away  to 
the  Checka. 

Meanwhile  I  was  told  that  I  would  be  obliged  to  remain  in 
the  apartment  until  they  had  searched  the  whole  building. 
Seeing  that  I  was  a  foreigner,  the  chairman  of  the  Housing 
Committee,  a  Lett  who  spoke  German  exceedingly  well,  tried 
to  make  matters  as  pleasant  as  possible  for  me.  He  asked  his 
wife  down,  brought  in  the  inevitable  samovar,  and  invited  me 
to  have  a  cup  of  tea  with  bread  and  butter.  It  was  then  about 
ten  o'clock  and  I  had  been  there  since  six.  After  the  search 
was  completed  the  Checkists  retired,  leaving  a  soldier  on  guard 
to  see  that  no  one  left  the  apartment.  He  sat  there  motion- 
less with  his  rifle  between  his  knees,  while  my  host  and  I 
talked  in  German.  In  a  few  minutes  I  strolled  over  to  the 
piano  and  began  to  pick  out  the  melodies  of  a  few  Russian 
folk  songs. 

Up  to  this  time  he  had  been  perfectly  stolid  and  uninter- 
ested in  the  proceedings,  then  suddenly  his  whole  expression 
changed. 

"Fraiilein,"  he  said,  in  excellent  German,  "you  speak  Ger- 
man almost  like  a  native.    Have  you  lived  in  the  Fatherland  ?" 

I  told  him  that  I  had  spent  much  time  in  Germany.  He 
hesitated.  "Perhaps  you  could  sing  me  a  German  song,  just 
one,"  he  begged. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  I  answered,  and  sitting  at  the  piano  I  sang 
one  after  another,  a  number  of  the  homely  German  folk 
songs  that  are  known  to  all  the  people,  "Du,  du  liegst  mir  im 
Herzen,"  "Ach,  du  lieber  Augustin,"  "Ich  hatt'  einen  Kam- 
eraden,"  and  several  others.  He  sat  there  spellbound  and 
presently  I  noticed  great  tears,  one  after  another,  rolling  down 


200  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

his  lined  cheeks.  When  I  finished,  for  a  few  minutes  he  was 
unable  to  speak,  then  he  said,  quite  simply: 

"Thank  you,  Fraiilein,  you  have  made  me  happier  than  I 
have  been  for  six  long  years." 

After  that,  little  by  little,  the  whole  story  came  out.  He 
was  a  German  prisoner  of  war  who  had  been  captured  during 
the  Russian  drive  in  East  Prussia,  in  the  summer  of  1914. 
For  five  years  he  had  been  kept  in  prison  camps  or  in  the 
villages  at  compulsory  labor,  then  he  had  given  up  hopes  of 
ever  getting  back  to  the  Fatherland  again  and  had  taken 
service  with  the  Checka,  because,  as  he  told  me,  he  got  better 
food  and  pay  there  than  anywhere  else.  He  had  renounced 
his  German  citizenship  just  before  the  arrival  of  the  German 
Repatriation  Mission,  his  bridges  were  burned,  he  could  never 
return  to  Germany,  where  he  had  a  wife  and  three  little  chil- 
dren. Such  instances  among  foreign  nationals  are  not  un- 
common in  Russia;  they  are  part  of  the  tragic  aftermath  of 
the  Great  War.  I  talked  with  my  Latvian  friends  for  several 
hours  and  it  was  two  o'clock  before  the  raid  was  over  and  I 
was  allowed  to  go  home. 


CHAPTER  XX 
AL  FRESCO  ADVENTURES 

It  was  pretty  hot  in  the  dog  days,  and  I  was  delighted 
when  I  received  an  invitation  from  some  American  friends, 
Mr.  Hopwood,  formerly  manager  of  the  Kodak  Company, 
and  his  two  daughters,  to  spend  a  week-end  in  the  country. 
We  stayed  in  the  house  of  an  old  peasant  woman,  a  widow, 
whose  son  had  been  killed  in  the  Great  War,  and  who  lived 
alone  with  her  little  grandchild.  She  belonged  to  the  upper 
class  of  peasants,  the  Koulaks,  who  have  always  owned  their 
own  land,  and  are  still  quite  prosperous,  representing  the  peas- 
ant bourgeoisie.  In  consequence  they  are  much  detested  by 
the  Communists,  and  they  are  rankly  counter-revolutionary. 

She  had,  until  recently,  made  a  very  good  living  out  of  her 
cows  and  her  small  market  garden,  but  the  former  had  been 
requisitioned,  only  one  being  left  her  on  account  of  the  small 
boy  who  had  to  have  milk.  She  was  no  longer  able  to  work 
herself,  she  informed  me,  and  owing  to  the  tremendous  de- 
crease of  man  power  in  the  village,  due  to  conscription  and 
the  number  of  peasants  who  had  gone  to  the  city  as  industrial 
workers,  she  had  been  unable  to  plant  but  a  small  part  of  her 
property.  She  gave  us  fresh  eggs,  a  little  milk,  and  some 
black  bread.  We  supplied  salt,  sugar  and  real  tea,  much  to 
her  delight,  for  she  had  not  tasted  the  last  named  for  more 
than  two  years.  She  told  us  that  the  peasants  in  the  village 
were  bitterly  discontented  over  the  requisitions  made  by  the 
government. 

Each  man  had  been  compelled  to  furnish  a  certain  number 
of  poods  of  potatoes  in  proportion  to  the  amount  of  acreage 
he  had  under  cultivation.  If  he  did  not  happen  to  have  raised 
potatoes  he  was  obliged  to  exchange  something  he  had  raised 
with  his  neighbors  for  potatoes,  and  furnish  the  required 
amount.     The  hay  crop  was  poor;  even  there  in  the  country 

201 


202  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

hay  cost  twelve  thousand  roubles  a  bale,  and  peasants  who  had 
had  a  poor  harvest  were  compelled  to  buy  hay  for  their  horses 
and  cattle.  In  many  cases  they  were  killing  them,  selling  the 
meat  on  the  open  market  rather  than  do  this.  She  told  me 
that  all  the  peasants  said  there  would  soon  be  another  revolu- 
tion. As  to  where  this  revolution  was  coming  from,  how  it 
was  to  be  brought  about,  or  what  was  to  be  their  part  in  it, 
they  had  not  the  faintest  idea.  That  seemed  to  me  to  be  the 
weak  point  in  all  the  opposition  to  the  Soviet  Government. 
Everybody  was  discontented,  everybody  expected  the  Soviet 
Government  would  be  overthrown,  but  every  man  thought  the 
other  fellow  was  going  to  do  it. 

The  sun  was  blazing  hot  and  we  were  tired  and  dirty  when 
we  arrived  at  our  destination  on  Saturday  afternoon.  We 
had  walked  at  least  ten  versts  from  the  station,  and  the  yil- 
lage  was  situated  near  the  Moskva  River,  which  looked  very- 
cool  and  tempting. 

"Let's  go  in  bathing,"  said  my  companions. 

'T'd  like  to,"  I  answered,  "but  I  have  no  bathing  suit." 

"That  makes  no  difference,"  they  answered.  "Nobody 
wears  a  bathing  suit  in  Russia.  Come  down  to  the  river  and 
see  for  yourself." 

When  I  got  there  I  saw  the  most  startling  sight  I  have  ever 
witnessed.  At  this  point  the  river  made  a  sharp  turn,  throw- 
ing up  a  bank  of  fine  white  sand  which  made  an  ideal  beach. 
On  the  beach  and  in  the  water  beyond  were  hundreds  of 
naked  people,  men,  women,  boys  and  girls,  all  indiscriminately 
mingled.  Some  were  standing  knee-deep  in  the  water  chatting 
with  their  neighbors,  others  taking  a  sun  bath,  quite  undis- 
turbed; no  one  seemed  in  the  least  self-conscious  or  concerned. 

"If  it's  the  custom  of  the  country,  I  suppose  I  can  do  it, 
too,"  I  said,  "but  let's  go  a  little  further  up  the  beach."  So 
we  withdrew  to  a  slightly  secluded  spot,  where  we  undressed, 
leaving  our  clothes  on  the  bank  in  charge  of  the  father  of 
my  two  friends.  They  laughed  at  me  because,  as  a  vestige 
of  Anglo-Saxon  prudery,  I  kept  on  my  hat  until  the  last,  but 
after  the  first  agonized  moment  I  quite  forgot  my  embarrass- 
ment and  never  enjoyed  a  swim  more  in  my  life. 


AL  FRESCO  ADVENTURES  203 

This  utter  absence  of  conventionality  or  self-consciousness 
was  to  me  one  of  the  most  delightful  things  about  the  Rus- 
sians. They  act  and  dress  exactly  as  they  please  on  all  occa- 
sions. In  the  streets  in  Moscow  you  see  long-haired  men,  and 
short-haired  women,  girls  without  stockings,  and  on  some 
occasions  wearing  men's  clothes,  while  the  men  wear  anything 
that  suits  their  fancy.  The  regular  summer  costume  of  the 
un-Europeanized  Russian  is  a  pair  of  loose  trousers,  of  linen 
or  cloth  tucked  into  high,  soft  boots,  a  linen  or  pongee  blouse, 
often  beautifully  embroidered  in  cross-stitch  with  bright  colors, 
buttoning  on  the  side  with  a  high  standing  collar,  worn  out- 
side the  trousers.  It  is  sometimes  held  in  by  a  narrow  leather 
belt,  but  more  often  by  a  bright  colored  knotted  cotton  cord 
with  tassels. 

Once,  outside  of  the  University  of  Moscow,  I  saw  a  dis- 
tinguished professor  talking  to  a  friend.  He  had  bare  feet, 
wore  long  linen  trousers,  a  Russian  blouse,  widely  open  at  the 
throat,  with  flowing  sleeves.  A  black  opera  cape  was  thrown 
back  negligently  over  his  shoulders.  On  his  head  he  wore  a 
small  round  skull  cap  embroidered  in  brilliant  colors.  He  was 
perfectly  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  his  attire  was  at  all  un- 
usual. Of  course,  the  scarcity  of  clothing  has  something  tQ 
do  with  these  eccentricities,  but  the  Russians  have  always  done 
as  they  pleased  in  respect  to  such  matters. 

We  spent  the  night  with  our  peasant  friend,  sleeping  on 
her  little  wooden  porch  on  huge  feather  beds,  which  she  pro- 
vided for  us,  and  in  the  morning  we  paid  a  visit  to  an  old 
Russian  priest  and  to  two  children's  summer  colonies  in  the 
neighborhood. 

The  priest  lived  in  a  four  room  wooden  house  like  most 
of  those  in  the  village,  with  a  large  glass  enclosed  porch.  He 
wore  a  faded  brown  cassock  with  the  enormously  long  sleeves 
and  corded  girdle  which  is  the  traditional  costume  of  the 
Sviaschcnnik.  His  small,  pig-like  blue  eyes  squinted  slightly 
when  they  looked  at  you;  he  had  a  monumental  beard  and 
a  very  red  nose,  which  suggested  that  in  the  old  days  at  least 
he  had  not  been  unacquainted  with  vodka  and  probably  yet  had 
a  reserve  tucked  away  somewhere.     He  owned  a  small  piece 


204  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

of  land  on  which  he  had  a  flourishing  market  garden  where  he 
raised  his  own  tobacco,  a  number  of  beehives  and  a  fine  lot 
of  chickens. 

His  shock-headed  children,  eight  in  number,  helped  him 
work  the  garden,  and  altogether  it  struck  me  that  he  was 
probably  living  very  much  as  he  had  before  the  Revolution. 
He  sold  us  ten  pounds  of  honey  at  an  enormous  price — 4000 
roubles  a  pound — but,  as  he  assured  us,  it  was  very  fine  honey. 
I  found  him  densely  ignorant,  bjirely  able  to  read  and  write. 
He  knew  nothing  about  his  parishioners,  and  they  cared 
nothing  for  him,  and  contributed  nothing  towards  his  main- 
tenance except  the  fees  he  exacted  for  burials,  christenings 
and  marriages.  As  a  specimen  of  the  old  fashioned  country 
priest  he  was  very  interesting  and  I  could  easily  see  how  he 
and  his  kind  would  rouse  prejudice  against  the  church  in  the 
minds  of  the  more  enlightened  classes  among  the  population. 

While  we  were  walking  from  the  village  of  Strogonov, 
where  we  had  spent  the  night,  to  Troiki,  several  versts  away, 
where  we  expected  to  visit  a  model  children's  colony,  we  had 
an  experience  which  was  particularly  illuminating.  It  was 
Sunday,  and  along  the  road  we  met  many  groups  of  peasants, 
bearded,  stalwart  men  loafing  and  smoking  mahorka,  rolled 
in  newspaper,  healthy  looking  peasant  girls,  mostly  barefoot 
with  bright  colored  handkerchiefs  tied  on  their  heads.  As  we 
passed,  most  of  them  stared  at  us  in  a  distinctly  unfriendly 
manner,  and  two  or  three  times  we  were  greeted  with  cries 
of  Jgid.  At  first  I  was  bewildered  and  my  friend  Mr.  Hop- 
wood  explained. 

"They  think  w'e're  Jews,"  he  said,  "because  we  evidently 
come  from  the  city,  and  are  well-dressed.  All  the  peasants 
hate  the  Jews." 

The  children's  colony  we  had  come  to  visit  was  a  beautiful 
old  house,  which  had  formerly  belonged  to  the  Karsenkins,  who 
were  among  the  merchant  princes  of  old  Moscow.  It  was  run 
by  the  Commissariat  of  Public  Health,  under  the  direct  super- 
vision of  Madame  Semashko,  wife  of  the  Commissar.  Ma- 
dame Kamenev,  wife  of  the  Chairman  of  the  Moscow  Soviet, 
was  also  a  member  of  the  Board  of  Control.    The  house  was 


4L  FRESCO  ADVENTURES  205 

situated  in  the  midst  of  a  fine  park,  with  the  remains  of  a  beau- 
tiful flower  garden,  on  a  high  bluff  overlooking  the  river,  and 
there  was  a  large  vegetable  garden  from  which  the  colony  drew 
most  of  its  supplies.     They  had  five  cows  and  several  horses. 

The  children's  quarters  were  very  clean  and  comfortable. 
The  superintendent  was  a  most  intelligent  Jewish  woman,  not 
by  any  means  a  Communist,  but  she  was  tremendously  inter- 
ested in  the  educational  and  cultural  side  of  the  work  of  the 
Soviet  Government.  The  older  girls  were  busily  sewing  on 
costumes  for  a  little  play  that  was  to  be  given  the  following 
week.  They  all  looked  healthy  and  happy,  and  there  seemed 
to  be  excellent  discipline.  Dinner  was  served  at  noon  and  con- 
sisted of  a  thick  soup,  followed  by  boiled  beef  tongue,  with 
mashed  potatoes,  stewed  fruit  and  white  rolls.  The  older 
children  had  tea  and  the  younger  children  each  a  big  cup  of 
milk. 

■  In  the  grounds  of  the  Karsenkin  estate  was  the  family 
mausoleum.  It  was  a  small  white  wooden  building,  rectangu- 
lar in  shape,  the  long  sides  being  composed  almost  entirely 
of  glass.  Entrance  was  through  a  narrow  passage,  on  one 
side  of  which  was  a  kitchenette  furnished  with  samovar  and 
cooking  utensils,  on  the  other  a  small  pantry,  still  stocked  with 
fine  porcelain.  This  passage  opened  into  the  main  room,  bright 
and  sunny  with  growing  plants  on  the  sills  of  the  large 
windows.  It  was  carpeted  with  light  brown  velvet  and  con- 
tained luxurious  arm  chairs,  a  big  sofa  and  a  table  on  which 
were  still  lying  some  Russian  periodicals  of  three  years  past. 
At  the  further  end  of  the  room  were  eight  graves,  covered 
with  growing  ivy,  each  with  a  large  stone  cross  at  the  head, 
on  the  arms  of  which  were  hung  the  Easter  eggs  which  the 
Russians  are  in  the  habit  of  bringing  to  their  dead  at  Easter. 

It  had  been  the  custom  of  the  Karsenkins  to  come  fre- 
quently to  the  mausoleum,  probably  on  all  church  holidays  and 
on  the  name  days  of  their  dead.  They  spent  the  day  sitting 
in  the  comfortable  arm  chairs,  chatting,  reading  and  drinking 
tea.  To  my  Western  mind  it  seemed  at  first  a  rather  grue- 
some idea,  but  in  the  final  analysis  there  was  really  something 
beautiful  about  it.    To  these  people  the  dead  were  no  less  real 


206  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

than  the  living;  it  was  their  way  of  bridging  the  gulf  between 
the  seen  and  the  unseen  world. 

In  the  afternoon  we  paid  a  visit  to  another  children's  col- 
ony run  by  the  municipality  of  Moscow.  It  was  situated  in 
one  of  the  "Dacha"  settlements  where  the  small  merchants  of 
Moscow  in  the  old  days  had  cottage  colonies  where  they  spent 
the  summer  months.  There  were  about  sixty  children  living 
in  five  or  six  cottages,  which  of  course  had  been  taken  from 
their  former  owners.  They  were  clean  and  well  run,  but  there 
was  a  marked  difference  in  the  physical  condition  of  these 
children  from  those  I  had  seen  at  the  first  colony.  The  ex- 
planation was  simple — they  were  living  on  the  regular  ration 
assigned  by  the  Commissary  of  Education,  which  runs  the 
ordinary  colonies.  Their  dinner  was  thin  soup  and  kasha  with 
black  bread.  For  the  sixty  children,  most  of  whom  were  be- 
low nine  years  of  age,  only  twenty  glasses  of  milk  a  day  were 
provided.  The  other  colony  received  the  same  allowance,  but 
it  was  supplemented  by  the  private  contributions  and  resources 
of  the  wives  of  the  commissars  whose  children  were  among 
its  members. 

I  had  another  delightful  midsummer  outing  at  the  "Nye- 
skouchni  Sad,"  Sans  Souci  Park,  a  beautiful  country  seat  on 
the  Moskva,  which  was  a  gift  of  Catherine  the  Great  to  one  of 
her  favorites,  Prince  Orlov.  The  palace,  a  handsome  building 
in  the  late  eighteenth  century  style,  was  being  transformed  into 
a  historical  museum  of  Russian  furniture  under  the  supervi- 
sion of  a  Russian  nobleman,  who  had  formerly  collected  such 
things  as  an  amateur.  The  park  surrounding  the  palace, 
though  terribly  neglected,  is  still  a  beautiful  specimen  of  land- 
scape architecture.  There  are  charming  vistas,  apparently 
natural  waterfalls,  deep  green  pools  with  overhanging  birches 
and  a  background  of  dark  evergreens,  small  Doric  temples  in 
unexpected  spots,  their  stone  steps  green  with  moss.  The 
very  decay  of  the  grass-grown  drives  and  winding  paths  makes 
them  still  lovelier.  Here  one  Saturday  afternoon  I  was  a 
meml^er  of  a  picnic  party  with  General  Brusilov,  his  wife  and 
daughter.  General  Polivanov,  Minister  of  War  under  the  Czar 
and  later  under  Kerensky,  and  a  number  of  other  Russians 


AL  FRESCO  ADVENTURES  207 

of  the  old  regime.  We  walked  until  we  were  tired  through 
the  grounds,  and  then  adjourned  to  the  janitor's  house  where 
we  had  tea  on  an  upstairs  veranda  with  a  beautiful  view  of 
the  river,  beyond  which  was  Moscow  with  its  hundreds  of 
gilded  domes  and  cross-crowned  minarets. 

The  janitor  had  been  a  soldier  in  one  of  General  Brusilov's 
regiments.  He  still  saluted  when  he  addressed  his  former 
commander,  calling  him  "My  General,"  and  his  wife  brought 
in  the  samovar  with  which  we  made  our  tea ;  and  the  cups  were 
of  rare  old  Russian  porcelain  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Each 
of  us  brought  a  contribution  for  our  supper,  which  consisted  of 
white  bread  and  cream  cheese,  cold  ham,  butter,  tea,  honey,  and 
small  cakes.  The  conversation  was  mostly  of  the  old  days. 
General  Brusilov  indulged  in  reminiscences  about  his  Galician 
campaign;  Polivanov  told  incidents  of  official  life  in  Petrograd. 
With  such  company,  and  in  such  surroundings,  it  was  hard  to 
believe  that  I  was  in  Soviet  Russia. 

Finally  our  talk  drifted  to  present  day  matters  and  I  was 
interested  to  learn  that  Polivanov  shared  the  ideas  of  Brusilov 
with  regard  to  the  Soviet  Government.  Like  him,  he  believed 
that  ill  advised  intervention  had  done  more  to  strengthen  the 
Bolsheviks  than  anything  else.  He  believed  that  the  Revolu- 
tion would  run  an  evolutionary  course,  that  the  Communists 
were,  for  the  moment,  the  only  party  which  could  govern  the 
country,  preserve  order,  and  keep  the  administrative  machine 
functioning.  Any  radical  change,  he  felt,  must  come  from 
within  rather  than  from  without  the  country  if  it  was  to  be 
permanent.  The  establishment  of  a  new  oligarchy,  backed  by 
foreign  powers  would,  he  was  convinced,  only  plunge  Russia 
into  a  new  civil  war,  and  the  idea  of  foreign  influence  or  in- 
tervention in  any  form  was  repugnant  to  his  sturdy  nationalism. 
Therefore  he  was  one  of  the  thousands  of  Bez  Partini  who 
were  willing  to  work  with  the  Soviet  Government.  Later  he 
accepted  a  post  on  the  Commission  sent  to  Riga  to  negotiate 
peace  with  Poland,  and  died  there  shortly  after  his  arrival. 
There  were  wild  rumors  current  in  Moscow  that  he  had  been 
poisoned  by  Russian  Counter-Revolutionaries  who  regarded 


208  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

him  as  a  traitor,  but  I  never  heard  anything  to  substantiate 
these  reports. 

The  parks  and  boulevards  were  always  crowded  during 
the  long  summer  afternoons  and  evenings,  for  during  June 
and  July  it  is  only  dark  for  two  or  three  hours  and  the  people 
live  in  the  streets  nearly  all  night.  In  the  parks  there  were 
numbers  of  open  air  concerts ;  on  the  boulevards  were  all  sorts 
of  amusements,  fortune  tellers,  photographers  who  took  your 
picture  while  you  waited,  jugglers,  venders  of  kvass  and 
lemonade  and  itinerant  musicians.  One  of  the  last  named  was 
a  most  picturesque  figure.  He  was  an  old  man  with  a  long 
white  beard,  and  no  matter  how  hot  the  weather  he  always 
wore  a  winter  overcoat  that  reached  to  his  heels.  Every  eve- 
ning he  played  the  flute  in  one  of  the  open  squares.  When  he 
had  collected  a  large  crowd,  mostly  children,  he  placed  himself 
at  the  head  of  an  impromptu  procession  and  wound  fantastic- 
ally in  and  out  among  the  paths,  playing  weird  melodies  like 
an  antiquated  Pied  Piper.  Just  across  from  the  Foreign  Office 
under  the  walls  of  the  Kitai  Gorod  (the  Chinese  city),  was 
a  small  garden  and  there,  in  the  long  summer  nights  another 
musician  gave  concerts  for  all  who  cared  to  hear.  Sitting  in 
the  window  sill  in  the  office  of  the  Western  section,  waiting  for 
war  news  and  political  bulletins,  I  passed  some  of  the  few 
restful  moments  of  my  stay  in  Moscow,  transported  to  another 
world  on  wings  of  song,  peaceful,  immutable  and  serene.  The 
performer  was  a  little  gray  nightingale. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  CHECKA 

During  the  summer  the  repatriation  of  prisoners  of  war 
which  had  been  begun  some  months  before  by  the  arrival  of 
the  German  Mission  was  given  an  impetus  by  the  arrival  of 
Czecho-Slovak  and  Austrian  Missions  and  of  Fridtj  of  Nan- 
sen,  the  great  Arctic  explorer,  who  came  to  arrange  for  the 
repatriation  of  nationals  whose  countries  had  no  official  inter- 
course with  Russia  on  behalf  of  an  International  Committee 
working  under  the  auspices  of  the  Red  Cross. 

The  German  Mission,  headed  by  a  man  named  Hilger,  was 
managed  with  true  Teutonic  efficiency.  The  Germans  were 
the  first  in  the  field,  and  by  the  spring  of  1920  they  had  suc- 
ceeded in  repatriating  most  of  their  nationals.  On  arriving  in 
Moscow  they  regained  possession  of  the  former  German  con- 
sulate practically  intact,  also  another  building  which  was 
used  as  a  home  for  destitute  or  invalid  German  soldiers.  They 
purchased  rations  to  feed  their  prisoners  from  Soviet  stores 
at  Soviet  prices,  and  even  got  back  the  three  original  automo- 
biles which  had  been  in  the  possession  of  the  German  Mission 
before  the  assassination  of  Mirbach.  Mr.  Hilger,  who  was 
an  extremely  clever  man  and  a  born  diplomatist,  succeeded  in 
establishing  excellent  relations  with  the  Foreign  Office  and 
also  with  the  German  Soviet,  for  every  foreign  country  has  its 
own  Soviet  in  Moscow.  By  tactful  management  he  was  able 
to  overcome  the  prejudice  of  the  German  Soviet  against  offi- 
cers. Other  Missions  had  great  difficulties  with  their  Soviets 
in  this  respect.  In  order  to  secure  places  in  repatriation  eche- 
lons prisoners  of  war  must  have  their  papers  vised  by  the 
Soviet  of  the  country  to  which  they  belong  and  this  body  in- 
variably gives  the  preference  to  enlisted  men,  holding  back 
officers  as  long  as  possible. 

209 


210  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

Mr.  Hilger's  activities  were  not  entirely  confined  to  repatri- 
ation, for  he  was  also  acting  as  the  unofficial  commercial 
agent  of  Germany  and  through  him  contracts  were  signed  with 
the  Soviet  Government  for  the  importation  of  large  quantities 
of  chemicals,  drugs,  medicines,  surgical  supplies,  farm  imple- 
ments and  tools. 

The  Czecho-Slovak  Mission  arrived  in  June  and  lived  at 
my  guest  house.  The  chief  was  Mr.  Skala,  a  former  officer 
in  the  Czecho-Slovak  Army  in  France;  his  wife,  who  acted 
as  secretary  to  the  Mission,  was  an  American  girl  born  in 
Chicago,  of  Czecho-Slovak  parents,  who  had  gone  to  Europe  in 
191 5  as  a  member  of  the  Serbian  Unit  of  the  American  Red 
Cross.  We  became  great  friends,  and  she  was  of  considerable 
assistance  to  me  in  carrying  on  the  work  I  undertook  later  for 
the  American  prisoners. 

The  problem  of  the  Czechs  was  a  particularly  difficult  one. 
They  were  saddled  with  the  work  of  repatriating  about  thirty- 
five  thousand  Czecho-Slovaks  who  had  been  captured  in  Siberia 
during  the  Kolchak  retreat.  These  men  were  scattered 
throughout  Western  Siberia,  Southeastern  Russia  and  Turke- 
stan; some  were  in  internment  camps,  others  had  been  allowed 
to  settle  in  the  villages  where  they  had  gone  to  work;  many  had 
died  or  simply  disappeared.  It  was  a  tremendous  task  to  lo- 
cate all  these  men,  to  secure  transportation  to  Moscow,  and 
finally  to  organize  the  echelons  which  left  for  Reval  twice 
a  week. 

The  Russian  organization  through  which  the  problem  of 
repatriation  was  handled  was  the  Centro-Evak  of  which  a  Lett 
named  Eiduk  was  chairman.  Every  foreigner  who  has  been 
resident  in  Russia,  whether  a  civilian  or  prisoner  of  war,  must 
receive  his  permit  to  leave  the  country  through  the  Centro- 
Evak  and  this  permit  must  have  the  vise  of  the  Foreign  Office 
and  of  the  Checka.  Foreign  nationals  arriving  in  Moscow 
from  distant  points  in  Russia  are  housed  in  enormous  con- 
centration points  pending  their  departure  where  they  are  sup- 
plied with  rations  and  given  a  place  to  sleep. 

I  visited  one  of  these  concentration  points  near  the  Nikolai 
station  with  Madame  Skala.     It  had  formerly  been  an  alms- 


THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  CHECKA  211 

house,  and  was  packed  from  garret  to  cellar  with  a  swarming 
mass  of  humanity  of  various  nationalities,  Letts,  Esthonians, 
Lithuanians,  Poles,  Italians,  Greeks,  Rumanians,  Ukrainians 
and  many  others. 

The  Czecho-Slovaks  were  assigned  special  quarters  where 
they  were  fairly  comfortable,  but  the  other  nationalities  were 
packed  in  helter-skelter,  men,  women,  and  children  together 
with  their  filthy,  nondescript  baggage.  I  talked  to  a  number 
of  the  Czechs,  many  of  whom  had  heard  nothing  from  their 
families  for  four  or  five  years.  In  the  hospital  ward  were 
numbers  of  men  from  Turkestan,  desperately  ill  with  malaria. 

In  one  bed  was  an  elderly  man  in  a  pitiable  mental  as  well 
as  physical  condition.  He  was  a  Baron,  but  on  his  arrival  in 
Moscow  he  had  registered  at  the  Czecho-Slovak  Soviet  under 
his  Christian  and  family  names  without  stating  his  former 
rank,  thinking,  very  rightly,  that  as  titles  are  not  recognized 
at  present  in  Czecho-Slovakia,  it  was  not  of  the  slightest  im- 
portance. His  family  name  was  well  known,  however,  and 
the  zealous  Czech  Communists  hunted  him  up  in  the  Almanach 
de  Gotha,  and  accused  him  of  some  deep  counter-revolutionary 
design  in  thus  concealing  his  rank.  Only  his  extreme  physical 
weakness  and  the  energetic  intervention  of  Mr.  Skala  saved 
him  from  being  sent  to  prison. 

At  the  Centro-Evak  concentration  point  the  most  pictur- 
esque inhabitants  were  the  gypsies,  large  numbers  of  whom 
had  been  conscripted  in  the  Austrian  and  Hungarian  armies. 
They  absolutely  refused  to  live  in  the  buildings,  and  had  built 
themselves  shelters  of  boards,  scraps  of  old  tin  roofing,  and 
blankets  stretched  on  poles  in  the  yard,  where  they  bivouacked 
and  did  their  own  cooking.  The  Hungarians  were  in  a  par- 
ticularly unfortunate  situation.  The  counter-revolutionary 
government  which  followed  the  Hungarian  Commune  was 
intensely  hated  by  the  Soviet  Government  and  there  was  no- 
body to  represent  their  interests.  The  Austrians  fared  better 
and  the  repatriation  of  Austrian  nationals  was  conducted  in  a 
fairly  orderly  manner. 

I  saw  a  great  deal  of  Nansen  during  his  visit  to  Moscow, 
as  he  stayed  in  our  guest  house  at  the  Horitonevski.    He  was 


212  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

not  allowed  to  bring  his  own  secretary,  as  he  was  a  Russian, 
and  during  his  ten  days'  stay  I  acted  as  his  secretary.  The 
Russians  who  have  a  tremendous  respect  for  intellectual 
attainment  admired  Nansen  greatly  as  a  scientist,  but  they  gave 
him  little  encouragement  on  the  diplomatic  end  of  his  mission, 
and  I  think  he  was  rather  disheartened  by  the  result  of  his 
first  visit.  He  was  interested  in  providing  transportation  from 
Reval  of  the  foreign  nationals  whom  the  Soviet  Government 
was  willing  to  permit  to  leave  the  country,  but  whose  govern- 
ments had  not  negotiated  directly  with  Moscow  on  the  subject. 
He  had  very  up-hill  work  to  ascertain  the  approximate  number 
of  these  people  in  Russia  and  the  transportation  facilities  which 
would  be  given  by  the  Russian  Government.  During  his  stay 
he  purposely  avoided  making  any  investigations  or  meddling 
in  any  way  in  politics,  but  he  used  to  spend  hours  every  day 
sitting  in  my  room,  talking  about  Russia  and  also  about  the 
United  States. 

He  speaks  English  beautifully  and  is  very  fond  of  America 
and  Americans.  His  youngest  daughter  was  at  that  time  in 
New  York,  where  she  was  studying  singing.  Nansen  has 
changed  very  little  since  he  was  in  the  United  States  some 
years  ago.  In  spite  of  his  sixty-eight  years  his  tall  form  is 
as  erect  as  ever,  his  blue  eyes  are  clear,  his  complexion  fresh 
and  ruddy.  He  gives  the  impression  of  tremendous  physical 
and  mental  vigor.  His  innate  conserv^atism  was  profoundly 
shocked  by  many  things  he  saw  and  heard  in  Russia,  but  the 
humanitarian  rather  than  the  political  side  of  the  situation 
appealed  to  him.  He  went  nowhere  in  Moscow,  and  did  noth- 
ing except  have  frequent  conferences  with  Foreign  Office 
officials. 

The  Danish  Red  Cross,  as  a  neutral  organization,  confined 
its  efforts  entirely  to  the  repatriation  of  civilians.  Its  chief. 
Dr.  Martini,  also  acted  as  unofficial  commercial  agent  for 
Danish  interests. 

The  French  Red  Cross,  which  had  no  legal  status,  was  in 
charge  of  Mademoiselle  Charpentier,  who  cared  for  all  the 
French  hostages  and  political  prisoners,  including  a  number  of 
officers  of  the  French  Mission  who  had  been  interned  since  the 


THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  CHECKA  213 

October  Revolution.  She  had  retained  the  French  Red  Cross 
headquarters  on  the  Chistoprudni  Boulevard  and  the  French 
home  in  the  Milyutinsky  Pereoulak,  securing  her  funds  prac- 
tically unaided  from  members  of  the  French  colony  in  Moscow, 
many  of  whom  were  allowed  to  remain  at  liberty,  though  with- 
out- permission  to  leave  the  country,  and  from  Russians,  em- 
ploying much  the  same  methods  as  those  used  by  Mr.  North. 
She  was  often  very  short  of  funds,  however,  and  resorted  to 
many  expedients,  one  of  which  got  her  into  trouble.  She 
asked  a  number  of  people  to  contribute  the  little  gold  and 
silver  medallions  with  images  of  the  Virgin  or  the  Saints  that 
are  worn  around  their  necks  by  ma'ny  Catholics,  which  she 
sold  to  obtain  money  to  purchase  food  supplies.  One  day  she 
was  denounced  as  a  speculator  by  a  Polish  woman  to  whom 
she  had  refused  to  give  food,  and  was  put  in  the  Checka  where 
she  spent  sixteen  days,  being  finally  released  through  the  in- 
tervention of  a  liberal  French  journalist  who  happened  to  be  in 
Moscow,  and  of  the  French  Communists,  who  had  not  lost 
all  their  sympathy  for  their  compatriots. 

Mademoiselle  Charpentier,  after  the  departure  of  Mr. 
North,  undertook  to  provide  for  British  prisoners.  When  I 
first  met  her  she  was  also  sending  weekly  food  packages  to 
Kalamatiano  and  Royal  R.  Keeley,  the  only  Americans  then 
known  to  be  in  prison  in  Russia,  but  this  state  of  affairs  did 
not  last  long. 

The  arrest  of  Mr.  Keeley  as  he  was  leaving  the  country  in 
May  was  followed  by  that  of  half  a  dozen  others  among  them 
Chabrow,  who  had  come  to  Russia  as  correspondent  of  the 
Federated  Press;  Thomas  Hazelwood,  an  American  deserter 
from  Vladivostok,  who  had  worked  his  way  across  Siberia  to 
Moscow;  and  Dr.  Estes  and  Mr.  Flick,  the  former  a  journalist, 
the  latter  a  motion  picture  operator  who  had  come  from  Reval 
with  permission  of  the  Soviet  Government;  Dr.  Lamare,  a  man 
claiming  American  citizenship,  who  had  lived  for  many  years 
in  Russia,  and  Albert  Boni,  an  American  publisher,  who  was 
arrested  after  having  attended  the  session  of  the  Third  Inter- 
national on  the  invitation  of  Karl  Radek. 

As  I  learned  of  the  arrest  of  these  people  from  time  to 


214  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

time  I  interviewed  the  Danish  and  Czecho-Slovak  Red  Cross 
officials  with  regard  to  the  possibiHty  of  providing  for  them 
in  some  way,  but  they  dedined  to  take  the  matter  up  officially, 
as  their  agreements  with  the  Soviet  Government  covered  only 
their  own  nationals.  Mademoiselle  Charpentier  was  willing 
to  undertake  the  work  of  supplying  the  Americans,  but  she  had 
neither  the  time  nor  the  funds,  so  I  agreed  to  take  them  off 
her  hands. 

Then  began  one  of  the  most  interesting  though  one  of  the 
most  dangerous  and  physically  tiring  of  all  my  experiences  in 
Russia.  From  the  end  of  June  until  the  20th  of  October, 
when  I  was  myself  arrested,  I  had  from  six  to  eight  Americans 
on  the  list  of  those  to  whom  weekly  food  packages  must  be 
sent.  They  were  in  the  Butierki  and  Checka  prisons  and  the 
Andronovski  concentration  camp.  Through  the  kindness  of 
the  Czecho-Slovak  Red  Cross,  I  was  able  to  send  packages  to 
the  Butierki  and  the  Andronovski,  but  those  at  the  Checka  I 
always  delivered  myself.  Tuesday  was  the  day  for  the  Bu- 
tierki, Friday  was  receiving  day  at  the  other  prisons. 

Every  Monday  and  Thursday  I  went  to  the  Soukharevka 
with  several  market  baskets,  and  a  big  knapsack  on  my  back, 
usually  accompanied  by  Madame  Skala,  who  prepared  pack- 
ages for  the  Czecho-Slovak  prisoners.  There  we  bought  our 
supplies,  hired  an  isvostchik  to  take  us  back  to  the  Horitonev- 
ski,  and  devoted  the  afternoon  to  cooking  and  preparing  the 
food  packages.  I  tried  to  vary  the  contents  from  week  to 
week,  but  the  average  package  was  as  follows :  three  pounds 
of  black  bread,  a  sixth  of  a  pound  of  tea  or  coffee,  a  quarter 
of  a  pound  of  sugar,  half  a  pound  of  butter  or  bacon,  a  small 
amount  of  cooked  meat  or  sausage,  a  few  hard  boiled  eggs 
or  boiled  potatoes,  an  earthenware  bowl  of  baked  beans,  baked 
apples  or  boiled  vegetables,  cigarettes  or  tobacco,  matches  and 
once  a  month  a  cake  of  soap. 

To  secure  funds  was  a  rather  difficult  matter.  I  exchanged 
the  American  money  I  had  brought  with  me  at  illegal  rates 
through  the  speculators  in  Moscow's  illicit  stock  market.  The 
Soviet  Government  had  fixed  a  legal  rate  for  exchange  of  for- 
eign currency,  but  it  is  so  low  that  very  few  foreigners,  even 


^: 


THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  CHECKA  215 

Socialists,  chose  to  avail  themselves  of  it.  I  was  very  much 
amused  by  the  fact  that  several  members  of  foreign  Socialist 
delegations  asked  me  to  exchange  their  money  for  them  at 
illegal  rates.  I  also  used  money  sent  me  by  radio,  by  the  As- 
sociated Press  through  the  Soviet  representatives  in  Copen- 
hagen, and  sold  some  of  my  personal  belongings.  I  had  an 
amusing  time  getting  rid  of  a  leather  jacket  and  breeches. 
The  sale  of  leather  is  controlled  by  the  Soviet  Government,  as 
leather  is  among  the  prime  needs  of  the  Red  Army,  but  I  sold 
mine  to  a  Checkist  for  a  very  good  sum,  I  also  received  con- 
tributions from  Americans  and  other  foreigners  temporarily  in 
Moscow,  and  through  the  Czecho-Slovaks  I  had  fifty  pounds 
of  sugar,  twenty  pounds  of  coffee,  a  dozen  bars  of  chocolate 
and  a  dozen  cans  of  condensed  milk  from  the  American  Red 
Cross  in  Reval.  I  always  obtained  receipts  from  the  prisoners 
for  the  articles  received  and  occasionally  requests  for  clothing 
or  toilet  articles  which  I  bought  on  the  Soukharevka. 

On  one  occasion  a  prisoner  asked  for  shoes,  without  stating 
the  size.  New  shoes  being  utterly  beyond  my  purse,  I  bought 
a  pair  of  second  hand  shoes  for  twenty-six  thousand  roubles. 
To  my  horror  they  were  returned  to  me  the  next  day — they 
were  too  small.  I  had  no  money  to  purchase  another  pair,  so 
there  was  nothing  left  for  me  to  do,  but  to  go  on  the  Souk- 
harevka myself,  sell  my  shoes  and  buy  a  second  pair  with  the 
money  I  received. 

I  went  early  in  the  morning  and  lined  up  in  the  shoe  mar- 
ket, holding  my  goods  in  one  hand,  displayed  to  the  public. 
Pretty  soon  a  man  came  along  and  offered  me  fifteen  thousand 
roubles.  I  told  him  that  I  would  not  sell  for  less  than  twenty- 
five  thousand.  Then  another  man  offered  me  seventeen  thou- 
sand. I  held  off  for  a  higher  price.  Presently  a  small  crowd 
began  to  gather,  each  man  overbidding  the  other  by  a  thousand 
roubles  or  so,  until  I  was  finally  offered  twenty-five  thousand 
roubles  which  I  accepted,  when  the  first  bidder  offered  me 
twenty-seven. 

"I've  already  sold  the  shoes,"  I  said. 

"That  doesn't  make  any  difference,"  he  returned,  "I'm 
offering  you  more." 


216  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

"That  isn't  the  way  we  do  business  in  America,"  I  an- 
swered, whereupon  he  grabbed  one  of  the  shoes  and  I  hit 
him  over  the  head  with  the  other. 

At  this  juncture  I  saw  a  mihtiaman  sauntering  up  in  the 
distance,  and  decided  it  was  high  time  for  me  to  disappear.  I 
snatched  the  shoe  from  my  opponent,  thrust  both  into  the  hands 
of  the  man  who  had  offered  me  twenty-five  thousand  roubles, 
grabbed  the  money  and  vanished  into  the  crowd.  After  that  I 
found  a  very  good  pair  of  larger  shoes  for  twenty-four  thou- 
sand roubles,  so  I  came  out  even  on  the  transaction. 

One  day  I  received  a  message  from  Mademoiselle  Char- 
pentier  stating  that  it  was  necessary  for  her  to  see  me  at  once 
on  an  important  matter.  I  went  immediately  to  the  headquar- 
ters of  the  French  Red  Cross  where  I  found  her  waiting  for 
me  with  a  tall,  gaunt  Jugo-Slav  from  the  Koschukovski  prison 
camp,  in  which  were  mainly  Polish  and  Hungarian  prisoners. 

"This  man  has  brought  a  note  from  a  Polish  prisoner  of 
war  who  claims  to  be  an  American,"  she  said.  "He  writes  that 
he  is  ill,  destitute  and  nearly  starving.  I  can  do  nothing  for 
him  as  the  French  Government  is  now  negotiating  for  the  re- 
lease of  all  prisoners,  and  as  you  know  relations  between 
France,  Poland  and  Russia  are  such  that  aid  from  us  to  a 
Polish  prisoner  of  war  might  cause  a  break  in  the  negotia- 
tions." 

I  took  the  note — it  was  from  "Corporal  Frank  R.  Mosher," 
who  stated  that  he  had  served  during  the  war  with  the  French 
Aviation  Service,  had  later  joined  the  A.  E.  F.,  had  volun- 
teered in  the  Kosciusko  Squadron  of  the  Polish  Army  and 
had  been  taken  prisoner  near  Kiev  where  his  plane  was  brought 
down  by  the  Bolsheviks.  He  wrote  that  he  was  in  very  bad 
physical  condition  and  asked  for  food  and  clothing  from  the 
French  Red  Cross. 

I  had  never  heard  of  "Corporal  Mosher,"  but  it  was  evi- 
dent that  he  was  an  American,  and  that  he  had  to  be  helped  at 
all  costs.  It  was  impossible  to  do  this  openly.  As  the  armis- 
tice with  Poland  had  not  even  been  signed,  feeling  against  the 
Poles  was  running  very  high  in  Moscow,  and  I  knew  that  the 
Foreign  Office  could  not,  even  if  it  were  willing  to  stretch  a 


THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  CHECKA  217 

point,  wink  at  aid  to  Polish  prisoners,  particularly  as,  ac- 
cording to  all  accounts,  the  Russian  prisoners  were  anything 
but  well  treated  in  Poland.  In  fact,  the  previous  year  I  had 
myself  seen  a  most  disgraceful  Bolshevik  prison  camp  at  Bialy- 
stok,  where  decent  conditions  were  assured  the  prisoners  only 
after  repeated  and  vigorous  intervention  on  the  part  of  the 
American  Red  Cross, 

Something  had  to  be  done,  however,  as  quickly  and  as  se- 
cretly as  possible.  I  went  back  to  my  room  at  the  government 
guest  house  where  I  was  staying,  made  up  a  food  package  from 
supplies  I  happened  to  have  on  hand,  and  took  them  back  to 
my  Jugo-Slav  acquaintance  at  the  French  Red  Cross.  He  had 
been  a  prisoner  since  the  early  days  of  the  Great  War,  when  he 
served  in  the  Austrian  Army,  and,  like  all  prisoners  of  this  class, 
enjoyed  a  considerable  amount  of  freedom  and  was  allowed  to 
go  into  Moscow  several  times  a  week  without  an  escort.  He 
had  become  acquainted  with  Mosher  in  the  Koschukovski 
camp  where  the  latter  had  been  transferred  from  Kiev,  and 
had  agreed  to  smuggle  out  his  letter  to  the  French  Red  Cross. 

With  the  package  I  sent  a  message  to  Mosher  asking  him 
what  he  needed  and  I  arranged  to  meet  our  go-between  the  next 
time  he  was  permitted  to  leave  the  camp,  at  a  safe  place  where 
I  was  sure  I  would  not  be  observed.  A  few  days  later  I 
received  the  list,  which  showed  that  Mosher  was  in  need  of 
practically  everything,  blanket,  pillow,  clothing,  toilet  articles, 
food.  ''And  if  you  can,"  he  wrote,  "for  God's  sake  send  me  a 
pipe  and  some  tobacco."  He  also  asked  to  know  my  name. 
I  was  afraid  to  write,  but  I  sent  back  word  that  I  was  Mrs. 
Harrison,  the  correspondent  of  the  Associated  Press  in 
Moscow. 

Little  by  little  I  managed  to  buy  all  the  necessary  articles, 
including  the  pipe,  in  the  Soukharevka.  This  itself  attracted 
no  attention,  as  I  was  in  the  habit  of  going  there  several  times 
a  week  to  purchase  supplies  for  the  other  American  prisoners, 
but  I  had  to  smuggle  them  in  small  quantities  to  our  secret 
meeting  place,  making  sure  all  the  while  that  I  was  not  being 
observed  or  followed.  After  I  had  sent  in  my  name  to  Mosher 
I  was  both  horrified  and  delighted  to  receive  a  tiny  note. 


218  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

"My  name  is  not  Mosher,"  he  wrote,  "I  gave  it  when  I 
was  captured  because  it  happened  to  be  on  the  underwear  I  was 
wearing,  which  I  had  received  from  the  American  Red  Cross. 
I  am  Merriam  C.  Cooper  of  Jacksonville,  Florida,  and  I  know 
you  well.  Don't  you  remember  the  last  time  we  danced  to- 
gether at  a  ball  at  the  Hotel  Bristol  in  Warsaw?"  He  then 
explained  that  he  had  taken  Mosher's  name,  with  his  rank  of 
Corporal,  first,  because  as  Captain  of  the  Kosciusko  Squadron 
his  name  was  well  known  to  the  Bolsheviks  and  they  had  been 
particularly  anxious  to  get  him,  and  secondly  because  he  knew 
that  in  the  event  of  an  exchange  of  prisoners  enlisted  men  and 
non-commissioned  officers  invariably  had  the  first  chance. 

I  certainly  did  remember  only  too  well,  and  I  knew  Captain 
Cooper's  record  in  the  French  and  American  armies.  Here 
was  a  most  important  prisoner  masquerading  under  a  false 
name,  and  I,  the  only  person  who  could  help  him,  was  myself 
constantly  watched  and  under  suspicion.  If  he  were  found 
out  the  consequences  to  both  of  us  would  be  anything  but 
pleasant. 

It  was  necessary  to  take  extra  precautions,  but  I  managed 
to  send  him  weekly  or  semi-weekly  packages,  even  money  and 
books,  without  being  caught  in  the  act,  and  I  secretly  forwarded 
a  note  from  him  to  his  parents  in  Jacksonville,  adding  a  few 
lines  to  say  that  I  was  looking  out  for  him,  and  asking  them 
not  to  mention  the  fact  that  they  had  had  news  from  him  except 
to  the  members  of  their  immediate  family,  as  his  identity  was 
not  known  to  the  Soviet  authorities. 

Our  clandestine  intercourse  kept  up  for  over  a  month,  after 
which,  much  to  my  relief,  he  was  transferred  to  the  Andronov- 
ski  prison  camp.  There,  of  course,  it  was  perfectly  natural  that 
I  should  learn  about  "Mosher"  from  the  other  prisoners,  who 
invariably  reported  the  names  of  any  additions  to  their 
number. 

When  I  was  arrested  later,  and  cross-examined  by  the 
Checka  as  to  my  relations  with  American  and  British  prisoners, 
my  chief  dread  was  that  they  would  ask  inconvenient  questions 
about  "Mosher,"  but  his  name  was  never  mentioned.  I  never 
heard  anything  more  about  him  until  I  arrived  in  Riga  and 


THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  CHECKA  219 

learned  that  he  had  escaped  from  prison  in  April,  when  he  had 
reason  to  believe  for  the  first  time  that  his  identity  was  sus- 
pected. When  we  met  a  few  days  later  in  Berlin  I  heard  his 
own  story  of  his  escape,  and  how  he  beat  his  way  to  the 
frontier  with  two  fellow  officers. 

In  September  when  the  French  Red  Cross  left  under  an 
exchange  agreement  with  the  Russian  Government,  I  undertook 
to  provide  temporarily  for  the  British  civilian  prisoners,  eight 
in  number,  and  several  elderly  English  ladies,  who  had  formerly 
been  governesses  in  Russian  families,  and  to  send  bread  to 
twenty-six  British  officers  from  Siberia,  who  were  interned 
in  the  Andronovski  camp.  Since  June  I  had  been  sending 
weekly  food  packages  to  Mrs.  Harding,  an  English  woman  who 
came  to  Moscow  as  correspondent  of  the  New  York  World, 
and  was  arrested  immediately  after  her  arrival, 

I  did  all  this  work  openly,  although  I  had  no  permission 
whatever  from  the  Soviet  Government.  In  fact  it  would  have 
been  quite  impossible  for  them  to  give  me  official  permission, 
unless  I  had  some  authorization  from  my  own  government 
or  from  the  American  Red  Cross,  and  this  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion owing  to  the  policy  of  the  State  Department  to  have  no 
dealings  direct  or  indirect  with  Moscow.  The  Foreign  Office 
was  officially  blind  to  what  I  was  doing,  and  I  continued  to 
send  packages  to  the  prisoners  until  my  arrest.  Occasionally 
I  learned  of  the  arrest  of  other  Americans  and  in  September 
I  sent  food  and  clothing  to  a  Mrs.  Schwarz,  who  was  confined 
with  her  husband  in  the  Andronovski  camp.  I  had  met  the 
Schwarzes  in  the  Foreign  Office  in  July  just  as  they  were  ap- 
parently on  the  eve  of  leaving  the  country,  and  had  imagined 
that  they  were  long  since  back  in  America.  I  was  told  of  their 
plight  by  Patrick  Quinlan,  an  Irish-American  and  labor  leader 
who  had  also  spent  six  weeks  in  prison. 

In  the  early  fall  I  met  Washington  Vanderlip,  who  was  a 
guest  at  the  Sofiskaya  Naberzhnaya.  He  came  with  the  out- 
line of  a  scheme  for  the  resumption  of  trade  with  Russia, 
claiming  that  the  Republican  administration  which  he  confi- 
dently believed  would  succeed  the  Democratic  party,  would  be 
disposed  to  open  commercial  relations  with  Russia,  recognize 


220  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

the  Soviet  Government,  and  to  take  concessions  for  the  devel- 
opment of  coal  lands  and  the  establishment  of  a  naval  coaling 
station  in  Sakhalin.  His  personal  conductor  was  an  English- 
man named  Humphreys,  who  had  formerly  worked  in  the 
Y.  M.  C.  A.  in  Moscow,  and  was  looked  on  as  a  member  of 
the  Foreign  Office  staff.  Mr.  Vanderlip  was  royally  enter- 
tained during  his  stay  in  Russia  and  saw  everything  the  Bol- 
sheviks meant  him  to  see.  He  also  did  a  little  private  specula- 
tion on  his  own  account.  One  of  the  transactions  which  hap- 
pened to  be  known  to  me  was  the  purchase  of  a  number  of 
paradise  plumes  and  aigrettes,  which  he  sold  at  a  handsome 
profit  in  London. 

During  Mr.  Vanderlip's  stay  Clare  Sheridan,  the  English 
sculptress,  was  also  a  guest  at  the  same  house,  and  she  and  Mr. 
Vanderlip  were  much  in  each  other's  company  to  the  great 
delectation  of  the  Soviet  gossips.  Mrs.  Sheridan,  who  was  in- 
vited by  Kamenev,  during  his  stay  in  London,  to  come  to 
Russia  and  make  the  busts  of  Lenin,  Trotzki,  and  other  dis- 
tinguished men,  was  at  first  regarded  with  some  suspicion  by 
the  ever  watchful  Checka  because  she  happened  to  be  a  relative 
of  Winston  Churchill.  She  was  very  discreet,  however,  re- 
signed herself  goodnaturedly  to  being  personally  conducted 
and  apparently  hugely  enjoyed  her  stay  in  Moscow.  I  was  at 
the  opera  with  her  one  evening  and  we  wisely  confined  our 
conversation  to  talk  about  art,  theaters  and  such  subjects. 

I  only  saw  Mr.  Vanderlip  for  five  minutes,  after  which  we 
were  interrupted  by  the  entry  of  Humphreys  who  announced 
that  Mr.  Vanderlip  had  to  go  to  inspect  some  institution  or 
other.  The  next  day  I  was  notified  by  the  Checka  that  I  had 
no  right  to  go  to  see  Vanderlip  or  any  other  American  in 
Moscow  without  its  permission. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  summer,  just  before  he  left  to  at- 
tend the  Eastern  Conference  of  the  Communist  party  at  Baku, 
I  met  John  Reed,  leader  of  the  American  Communist  party, 
who  had  been  released  a  short  time  previously  from  prison  in 
Finland.  He  was  looking  very  ill  from  the  effect  of  the  hard- 
ships he  had  undergone  while  in  prison  and  he  struck  me  as 
being   rather   dispirited;   not   that  he   beUeved   any   the   less 


THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  CHECKA  221 

in  Communism,  but  I  think  he  saw  some  of  the  mistakes  that 
were  being  made  in  Moscow  and  felt  that  he  was  powerless  to 
prevent  them.  I  frequently  saw  him  at  the  Foreign  Office  in 
the  evenings  and  we  had  long  talks  about  Communism.  He 
told  me  that  he  intended  to  return  to  America  and  face  the 
charges  then  standing  against  him.  He  impressed  me  as  an 
intensely  honest,  rather  fair-minded  person,  and  I  always  felt 
that  a  certain  spirit  of  bravado  spurred  on  by  what  he  regarded 
as  unfair  treatment  in  America  pushed  him  rather  farther  than 
he  intended  to  go  in  his  radicalism.  He  was  taken  ill  with 
typhoid  fever  immediately  after  his  return  from  the  Baku 
conference,  and  died  on  October  19th. 

I  also  saw  something  of  his  wife,  Louise  Bryant,  who  ar- 
riA^ed  in  the  fall,  looking  very  chic  and  pretty  in  her  New  York 
clothes.  She  was  the  only  fashionable  looking  woman  I  had 
seen  for  such  a  long  time  that  I  was  c|uite  dazzled  by  her. 
In  Moscow  all  the  women  were  wearing  the  full  skirts  that 
were  fashionable  in  191 7.  I  am  sure  that  her  chic  tailor-made 
suit  with  its  narrow  skirt  and  straight  lines  afforded  work 
for  many  home  dressmakers.  I  liked  Mrs.  Reed  very  much, 
personally,  and  I  felt  sorry  for  her  when  her  husband  died, 
even  risking  a  visit  to  the  forbidden  hotel  of  the  Third  Inter- 
national after  his  death  in  order  to  see  if  I  could  be  of  any 
assistance  to  her.  The  next  day,  when  I  was  arrested,  the 
allegation  that  I  had,  under  cover  of  sympathy,  tried  to  get 
information  from  her  about  the  Communist  party  was  one  of 
the  accusations  made  against  me.  This  was  reasonable  ac- 
cording to  Bolshevist  psychology,  for  it  was  exactly  what  a 
Communist  would  have  done,  under  similar  circumstances.  In 
judging  what  are  in  themselves  arbitrary,  and  often  cruel  acts 
of  the  Soviet  authorities,  many  people  fail  to  realize  that  the 
Communists  are  acting  in  accordance  with  the  tenets  of  what 
is  really  not  so  much  a  political  creed  as  a  fanatical  religion, 
based  on  an  entirely  new  system  of  ethics. 

Since  I  have  been  in  America  I  have  heard  many  rumors 
about  the  death  of  John  Reed,  all  of  them  absolutely  un- 
founded in  my  opinion.  It  has  been  said  that  he  was  mur- 
dered, and  a  great  deal  of  other  nonsense.     As  a  matter  of 


222  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

fact,  I  believe  that  John  Reed  was  not  satisfied  with  the  state 
of  affairs  in  Russia.  Like  most  foreign  Communists,  he  was 
unwilling  to  accept  the  tactical  dictation  of  Moscow.  That  he 
would  have  been  arrested  or  in  au}^  way  molested,  however,  I 
do  not  believe,  much  less  murdered.  He  was  in  wretched 
health  during  his  entire  stay  in  Moscow,  and  he  was  not  the 
only  delegate  to  the  Baku  conference  who  came  back  with 
typhoid  fever,  which  seems  to  have  been  epidemic  there  last 
autumn.  Mrs.  Reed  told  me  that  his  treatment  was  not  by 
any  means  what  he  would  have  received  in  New  York.  She  did 
not  approve  of  the  methods  of  the  Russian  doctors;  she  did 
not  believe  that  the  Russian  nurses  knew  their  business,  and 
she  told  me  that  his  diet  was  not  altogether  what  she  would 
have  wished  for  him,  but  she  attributed  all  this  to  the  universal 
shortage  in  Moscow,  and  I  never  had  the  impression  that  she 
felt  the  lack  of  up-to-date  treatment  was  intentional.  The  only 
matter  about  which  she  took  issue  with  the  Soviet  authorities 
was  his  burial  in  the  Red  Square  in  Moscow, 

"John  was  a  real  American,"  she  repeated  over  and  over 
again.  "I  know  he  would  have  wanted  to  be  buried  on  Ameri- 
can soil." 

Relief  work  for  Russia  was  begun  on  a  small  scale  dur- 
ing the  summer  by  two  foreign  organizations,  the  English 
Society  of  Friends  and  the  Joint  Distribution  Committee  of 
America.  The  former  was  supervised  by  Mr.  Arthur  Watts, 
a  young  Englishman  who  lived  at  the  Savoy,  and  consisted  in 
furnishing  food  for  children's  dining  rooms  in  Moscow  and 
Petrograd.  Up  to  the  time  of  my  arrest  nearly  two  hundred 
tons  of  food  had  been  distributed  in  this  manner.  Mr.  Watts' 
methods  were  much  criticized  by  the  more  conservative  for- 
eigners. He  was  a  Communist  of  the  idealistic  type  and  was 
quite  content  to  receive  and  turn  over  in  bulk  the  food  supplies 
sent  from  England,  leaving  the  distribution  entirely  to  the 
Soviet  authorities. 

The  Joint  Distribution  Committee  whose  representatives. 
Judge  Fischer  and  Harry  Kagan  of  Chicago,  and  Max  Pein 
of  Brooklyn,  signed  a  contract  with  the  Soviet  Government, 
operated  through  a  local  organization  and  got  several  trainloads 


THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  CIIECKA    223 

of  supplies  through  to  the  pogrom  sufferers  and  the  victims  of 
the  PoHsh  offensive  on  the  Beresina  front  and  in  the  Ukraine. 
They  had  no  American  representative  in  Russia  and  Mr.  Watts 
was  the  only  foreign  relief  worker  who  planned  to  remain  in 
Moscow  for  the  winter.  I  often  appealed  to  him  to  help 
me  care  for  the  British  but  got  very  little  response  from  him. 

At  the  end  of  September  nearly  all  the  foreigners  had  left 
Moscow,  the  weather  was  beginning  to  get  very  cold,  the 
government  guest  houses  were  poorly  heated,  and  the  pros- 
pects for  the  winter  were  anything  but  cheerful.  No  new  news- 
paper correspondents  came  in  except  a  few  representatives  of 
the  European  Socialist  Press.  H.  G.  Wells  was  in  Moscow 
for  a  few  days  but  I  was  strictly  forbidden  to  see  him. 

Owing  to  the  scarcity  of  fuel  which  was  every  day  becom- 
ing more  menacing  numbers  of  factories  in  Moscow  were 
closed.  Food  was  growing  scarcer  and  at  the  same  time  it 
was  announced  that  the  government  would  shortly  close  all 
the  markets  and  prohibit  free  trade.  Nevertheless  life  on  the 
surface  was  going  on  very  much  as  usual :  the  theaters  opened 
with  new  programs,  schools  began  on  time,  railroads  were 
operating,  though  on  a  restricted  schedule.  Passenger  trains 
were  cut  down,  however,  and  it  became  increasingly  difficult 
for  private  individuals  to  travel.  To  travel  anywhere  outside 
of  a  limited  zone  around  any  of  the  Russian  cities  it  was 
necessary  to  have  a  special  permit,  stating  the  nature  of  your 
business,  a  release  from  the  office  where  you  happened  to  be 
working,  besides  the  worker's  book  with  which  every  citizen 
must  be  provided.  After  securing  these  documents  you  had 
to  stand  in  line  for  hours  at  a  stretch  to  obtain  the  tickets. 
There  was  an  office  of  the  Kazan  Railway  underneath  the  Hotel 
Metropole  and  it  was  no  uncommon  sight  to  see  peasants  sleep- 
ing all  night  on  the  pavement  in  order  to  be  first  in  the  line 
the  next  morning.  As  only  a  limited  number  of  tickets  were 
given  out  for  each  train,  it  was  necessary  to  secure  them  a 
long  time  in  advance. 

The  signing  of  the  armistice  with  Poland  produced  little 
effect  on  the  people.  There  was  no  rejoicing  and  no  excite- 
ment for  there  had  been  so  many  similar  events  in  the  past, 


224  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

which  had  always  been  followed  by  new  wars  and  new  mobili- 
zations. 

By  this  time  I  had  begun  to  realize  that  not  even  the  armis- 
tice with  Poland  would  secure  me  permission  to  leave  Russia. 
I  was  still  looked  on  with  suspicion,  regarded  as  a  person  who 
knew  entirely  too  much  about  the  internal  affairs  of  the  country 
to  be  allowed  to  leave  at  such  a  critical  juncture.  A  note  from 
Mr.  Colby,  then  Secretary  of  State,  to  Chicherin,  announcing 
continuance  of  the  American  Government's  policy  to  refuse  to 
have  any  intercourse  with  Russia  until  the  formation  of  a 
government  which  would  represent  the  will  of  the  majority  of 
the  people,  caused  much  ill  feeling  against  Americans  in  general 
and  this  was  heightened  by  the  arrest  of  numbers  of  Com- 
munists in  the  United  States,  who,  it  was  said,  were  held  in 
Federal  prisons  under  abominable  conditions.  This  impres- 
sion was  fostered  by  the  reports  of  the  American  political 
deportees  and  by  the  irritation  which  the  Soviet  Government 
felt  at  their  presence,  for  they  were  mostly  Anarchists  and 
not  persona:  grates  in  Russia  any  more  than  they  were  in  the 
United  States.  It  was  evident  to  me  that  I  and  a  number 
of  other  Americans  would  be  retained  as  hostages  and  I  was 
quite  prepared  to  spend  the  winter  in  Moscow,  hoping  however, 
that  I  would  escape  arrest  until  some  arrangement  could  be 
made  for  the  care  of  my  prisoners.  Meanwhile  I  lived  very 
quietly,  going  on  with  my  work  as  inconspicuously  as  pos- 
sible, seeing  few  people  except  the  members  of  the  Czecho- 
slovak Mission  and  a  few  Russian  friends,  and  waited  to  see 
what  was  coming  next. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
THE  TRAP  IS  SPRUNG 

There  is  a  current  saving  in  Russia  that  every  citizen  "has 
sat,  is  sitting  or  will  sit  in  prison."  After  eight  months  in 
Moscow  I  had  ample  proof  of  the  relative  accuracy  of  this 
statement,  so  that  when  I  was  arrested  on  the  night  of  the 
twentieth  of  October  I  was  not  taken  unawares  by  any  means. 
Indeed,  for  some  time,  as  I  have  already  stated,  I  had  had 
reason  to  suspect  that  my  turn  was  coming,  and  I  often  used 
to  lie  in  bed  at  night  listening  to  passing  automobiles,  wonder- 
ing when  one  would  stop  at  the  door  of  the  government  guest 
house  in  the  Mali  Horitonevski  Pereoulak.  A  motor  in  a  quiet 
street  at  night  in  Moscow  nearly  always  means  a  "Zosad,"  or 
raid,  or  an  arrest,  for  none  but  official  personages  on  official 
business  use  cars  and  the  few  commissars  who  work  at  night 
have  no  business  to  transact  in  the  residential  sections. 

On  this  particular  night  I  had  come  home  very  late,  about 
two  o'clock  as  usual,  from  the  Foreign  Office,  where  everyone, 
including  Chicherin,  works  all  night,  the  news  bulletin  being 
given  to  press  correspondents  at  twelve  o'clock,  and  I  was 
just  preparing  to  go  to  bed  when  I  heard  a  motor  stop  outside. 
In  a  few  minutes  there  was  a  knock  at  my  door.  "It's  all 
up,"  I  thought,  calmly,  and  without  getting  up  from  the  sofa 
where  I  was  sitting  I  called  out  in  as  cheerful  a  tone  as  I 
could  muster,  "Come  in." 

The  door  opened  and  a  young,  exceedingly  well  dressed, 
rather  pretty  woman  came  in,  followed  by  two  soldiers  wearing 
the  pointed  caps  of  the  Checka  and  carrying  the  rifles  which 
have  almost  entirely  taken  the  place  of  revolvers  even  with  the 
city  militia.  They  were  nice  looking  boys,  not  at  all  fierce  or 
formidable,  and  they  seemed  rather  reticent  about  stating  their 
errand,  so  I  thought  I  would  help  them  out. 

225 


226  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

"I  suppose  you  have  come  to  arrest  me,"  I  remarked. 

Without  replying  the  elder  of  the  two  boys  handed  me  a 
small  slip  of  paper.  It  was  an  order  for  my  arrest,  accom- 
panied by  a  search  warrant,  written  with  a  red  pencil,  and 
signed  by  Piatt,  executive  head  of  the  "Secret  Operative  Sec- 
tion" of  the  Extraordinary  Commission,  which  is  the  correct 
title  in  English  for  the  Checka. 

At  the  same  moment  the  Commandant  of  the  house  ar- 
rived, rubbing  his  eyes,  and  looking  very  sleepy  indeed.  This 
was  strictly  in  accord  with  the  prescribed  legal  routine  which 
requires  the  presence  of  the  Commandant  or  the  chairman  of 
the  house  committee  whenever  a  search  warrant  is  served. 

The  two  men  then  began  a  thorough  overhauling  of  every- 
thing in  the  room,  and  nothing  escaped  them.  They  were  evi- 
dently experts  at  the  job.  All  my  personal  belongings  were 
gone  over,  my  bags  turned  inside  out  and  the  space  between 
the  cover  and  the  lining  thoroughly  examined.  The  bed  was 
subjected  to  a  rigid  search,  as  was  each  piece  of  upholstered 
furniture,  the  carpet  was  turned  up  and  the  space  behind  the 
radiator  received  particular  attention. 

All  my  papers  were  collected  down  to  the  smallest  scrap 
of  writing — blank  sheets  were  held  to  the  light  to  detect  pos- 
sible invisible  characters  and  my  books  were  gone  over  page 
by  page.  As  I  had  collected  a  number  of  books  and  pamphlets, 
made  innumerable  notes,  kept  copies  of  all  my  newspapers, 
articles  and  telegrams  for  eight  months,  there  was  much  to  be 
inspected.  And  then  my  money  had  to  be  counted.  I  had 
quite  a  lot  of  it,  a  million  and  a  half  roubles,  for  I  was  at  that 
time  supplying  weekly  food  packages  to  eight  Americans  and 
a  number  of  British  prisoners  and  had  to  keep  considerable 
cash  on  hand  for  my  purchases  in  the  market.  The  money  was 
counted  twice,  I  was  asked  to  verify  the  amount,  then  money 
and  papers  were  made  into  two  packages  to  accompany  me 
to  the  Checka. 

Meanwhile  I  had  been  subjected  to  a  personal  search  by 
the  woman  who  had  been  sent  for  that  purpose.  She  examined 
my  pockets,  felt  in  my  corsets,  my  stockings  and  my  hair,  went 
over  every  inch  of  my  fur-lined  coat  to  see  if  it  concealed  any 


THE  TRAP  IS  SPRUNG  227 

papers,  but,  much  to  my  surprise,  I  was  not  compelled  to 
undress,  and  I  was  treated  most  courteously  throughout. 

I  asked  permission  to  pack  the  necessary  articles  to  take 
to  prison  with  me,  and  this  was  immediately  granted.  Al- 
though warned  that  there  was  not  room  for  much  luggage  in 
the  automobile,  I  managed  to  take  a  bag  containing  toilet 
articles,  a  change  of  underwear,  some  chocolate  and  cigar- 
ettes, an  army  bedding  roll  with  a  pillow  and  a  steamer  rug 
and  my  big  fur  coat. 

When  the  search  was  over  I  was  asked  to  sign  a  document, 
witnessed  by  the  Commandant,  certifying  that  the  search  had 
been  conducted  in  a  proper  manner,  my  room  was  closed, 
locked  and  sealed  with  a  large  red  seal.  I  was  then  taken  to 
the  waiting  motor,  a  fine  English  car,  and  driven  through  the 
silent  moonlit  streets  to  the  prison  of  the  secret  section  of 
the  Checka,  which  is  in  a  building  on  the  Lubianka,  in  the 
heart  of  Moscow's  business  district,  formerly  the  property  of 
the  "Rossia"  Life  Insurance  Company.  From  the  outside  it 
looks  like  anything  but  a  prison.  On  the  ground  floor  a  row  of 
unoccupied  shops,  divided  by  temporary  unpainted  wooden  par- 
titions, serve  as  offices  for  the  Checka.  The  car  stopped  out- 
side one  of  these,  and  I  was  taken  into  a  small  dingy  room, 
with  a  railed  space  at  one  end,  behind  which  were  sitting  two 
Checkists  in  front  of  a  large  deal  table  covered  with  documents 
and  papers.  Lined  up  along  the  railing  were  a  number  of 
other  people  who  had  evidently  been  arrested,  all  men  except 
myself.  I  was  the  last  in  the  line,  and  it  was  more  than  an 
hour  before  my  turn  came  to  fill  out  the  questionnaire  pre- 
sented to  me  by  the  men  behind  the  table.  It  was  a  most 
elaborate  affair,  evidently  intended  only  for  Russians,  for 
among  the  questions  to  be  answered  were  whether  I  had  any 
relatives  in  the  Red  or  White  Armies.  When  this  was  over  my 
money  was  again  counted,  my  valuables  were  all  taken,  includ- 
ing my  wedding  ring,  and  I  was  given  a  receipt  for  them,  as 
well  as  for  my  typewriter  and  kodak. 

This  done,  the  commissars  behind  the  table  yawned,  locked 
up  their  books  and  disappeared,  and  I  was  left  alone  with  half 
a  dozen  soldiers.     Then  I  was  subjected  to  the  only  personal 


228  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

indignity  I  experienced  during  my  ten  months'  imprisonment. 

One  of  the  soldiers,  who  was  what  we  would  call  a  fresh 
guy  at  home,  proceeded  to  search  me  on  his  own  account,  ac- 
companying the  proceedings  with  a  number  of  witticisms  which, 
fortunately,  I  did  not  know  enough  Russian  to  understand, 
but  which  sent  his  companions  into  roars  of  laughter.  They 
seemed  to  think  it  especially  funny  when  I  protested  on  the 
ground  that  I  was  an  American. 

"Much  good  being  an  American  will  do  you  here,  citizen- 
ness,"  returned  my  tormentor  scornfully. 

Finally  they  had  enough,  and  I  was  taken  through  a  laby- 
rinth of  ground  floor  passages  and  up  three  flights  of  stairs  to 
the  office  of  the  Commandant,  where  I  surrendered  my  receipts, 
and  was  searched  again,  this  time  in  a  perfectly  correct  man- 
ner. The  commandant,  whom  I  afterwards  got  to  know  quite 
well  from  his  daily  visits,  was  the  living  image  of  "Kaiser 
Bill,"  and  my  Russian  companions  always  called  him  "Vilgelm" 
behind  his  back.  Officially  we  addressed  him  as  Citizen  Com- 
mandant. He  was  a  rigid  disciplinarian,  but  absolutely  just, 
and  was  always  willing  to  listen  to  any  reasonable  complaints 
or  requests. 

By  this  time  it  was  nearly  six  o'clock.  I  was  desperately 
tired,  and  very  thankful  when  I  was  taken  to  my  room  on  the 
floor  below.  Here  again  the  first  impression  was  not  that  of 
a  prison,  though  as  a  matter  of  fact  the  "Lubianka  2"  is  the 
strictest  prison  in  Moscow.  Except  for  the  armed  sentinel  at 
the  door,  the  winding  corridor  into  which  I  was  taken  might 
have  been  the  hall  of  any  second-class  hotel  anywhere  in 
Europe.  On  both  sides  were  numbered  rooms.  We  stopped 
opposite  number  39,  the  door  was  unlocked,  the  light  turned 
on  "for  five  minutes,  so  that  you  can  undress  if  you  want  to," 
my  guard  informed  me,  the  door  was  banged  and  locked,  and 
I  found  myself  in  a  small  single  room  already  occupied  by 
three  women. 

Two  were  lying  on  the  floor,  and  one  on  a  bed  of  three 
boards  laid  across  wooden  horses  and  covered  by  a  thin  straw 
pallet.  The  only  other  articles  of  furniture  were  a  deal  table, 
and  the  "parashka,"  a  large  iron  garbage  can,  which  is  un- 


THE  TRAP  IS  SPRUNG  229 

pleasant  but  indispensable  considering  the  fact  that  prisoners 
are  permitted  to  go  to  the  toilet  but  twice  a  day. 

On  hearing  the  key  turn  in  the  lock  all  three  of  my  com- 
panions, who  had  evidently  been  "playing  'possum,"  sat  bolt 
upright  and  began  deluging  me  with  questions  as  is  always  the 
custom  in  prison.  Where  was  I  from,  why  had  I  been  ar- 
rested? I  retaliated  with  a  cross-fire  in  French  and  Russian, 
which  resulted  in  the  discovery  that  I  was  already  acquainted 
with  one  of  the  prisoners,  a  pretty  Jewish  woman  whom  I  had 
last  seen  at  "The  Bat,"  Lietiischa  Muisch,  one  of  Moscow's 
best  known  vaudeville  theaters,  with  Mr.  Michael  Farbmann, 
the  correspondent  of  the  Chicago  Daily  Neivs.  The  second 
was  a  young  girl  employed  in  the  Foreign  Office.  Both  had 
been  arrested  a  few  hours  before  I  was  and  professed  to  be 
ignorant  of  the  charges  against  them,  though  I  suspected  that 
my  acquaintance  was  probably  in  for  what  is  known  as  "inter- 
national speculation,"  which  means  that  she  had  had  illegal 
business  transactions  with  foreigners.  The  third  woman,  a 
young  Russian  girl,  had  been  for  six  weeks  in  solitary  confine- 
ment until  our  advent,  which  explained  why  she  was  the 
proud  possessor  of  the  bed.  Hers  was  a  most  romantic  story. 
She  had  fallen  in  love  with  a  Hungarian  prisoner  of  war,  a  near 
relative  of  Count  Szechenyi,  who  married  Miss  Gladys  Van- 
derbilt  of  New  York  some  years  ago,  and  was  accused  of  being 
implicated  in  a  plot  for  his  escape,  together  with  a  number 
of  Hungarian  officers. 

For  more  than  a  year  she  had  been  taxing  her  slender 
resources  to  provide  him  with  food  and  other  comforts  in 
prison,  and  I  never  told  her  that  I  had  already  heard  that  this 
same  faithless  Szechenyi  was  at  the  same  time  receiving  food 
packets  from  a  certain  Princess  Galitzin.  She  was  what  we 
would  call  in  America  a  good  sport.  Though  facing  charges 
which  might  mean  the  death  penalty  if  they  were  proved  against 
her,  she  was  always  in  the  best  of  spirits,  and  made  light  of 
our  hardships  in  the  most  delightful  manner. 

When  our  herring  soup  was  served  at  noon  she  assured 
me  that  it  was  fine  for  the  digestion,  and  she  told  me  that  the 
six    weeks    in    solitary    confinement    had    been    wonderfully 


230  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

soothing  to  her  nerves.  During  all  this  time  she  had  had  no 
books  and  no  amusements,  except  conversation  through  a  small 
hole  in  the  wall  near  the  steam  pipe,  with  the  man  in  the  next 
room,  a  well  known  theosophist. 

The  morning  passed  without  any  incident  except  our  ma- 
tutinal trip  to  the  bathroom,  where  we  all  performed  our  ablu- 
tions together  in  a  big  tin  trough  with  cold  water.  In  the  af- 
ternoon, I  was  taken  to  be  photographed,  full  face,  left  and 
right  profile,  against  a  white  screen  on  which  my  serial  number 
was  printed — as  nearly  as  I  can  remember  it  was  3041. 

That  night,  curled  up  in  my  bedding  roll  on  the  floor,  for 
there  had  been  so  many  arrests  recently  that  there  were  not 
enough  beds  to  go  around,  I  slept  well.  Strange  to  say  I  was 
not  in  the  least  nervous.  After  many  weeks  of  suspense  the 
worst  had  happened,  and  my  first  feeling  was  one  of  relief, 
for  it  must  be  remembered  that  my  status  in  Russia  had  always 
been  illegal,  I  had  been  arrested  once  before,  and  I  knew  that 
I  was  subject  to  rearrest  at  any  time. 

The  next  day,  shortly  after  dinner,  a  soldier  appeared. 

"Garrison,"  he  demanded.     "Here,"  I  answered. 

"Na  dopros,"  he  said,  shortly.  I  was  puzzled,  for  it  was  a 
new  word  to  me.  "That  means,"  said  my  Russian  friend,  "that 
you  are  summoned  to  a  hearing.  You  are  lucky.  Sometimes 
people  wait  for  weeks  before  they  are  questioned  by  one  of 
the  judges." 

I  followed  my  guard  out  into  the  hall,  up  and  down  a  maze 
of  stairways  and  passages,  until  I  reached  a  familiar  room,  the 
office  of  Moghilevski,  a  member  of  the  prsesidium  of  the 
Checka,  who  had  questioned  me  in  the  spring  when  I  was  de- 
tained for  forty-eight  hours  on  account  of  the  fact  that  I 
had  come  to  Russia  from  Poland,  an  enemy  country,  without 
the  permission  of  the  authorities. 

Moghilevski  is  a  tall,  slender,  dark  man,  tremendously 
earnest  and  intensely  fanatical  in  his  Communistic  beliefs,  ut- 
terly unsparing  of  himself  and  others  in  his  work,  but  he  has 
his  human  side,  as  I  discovered  when  I  noticed  a  beautifully 
bound  copy  of  Rabelais  lying  on  his  desk.    I  remarked  about 


THE  TRAP  IS  SPRUNG  231 

this  and  he  told  me  that  he  had  a  weakness  for  old  French 
literature. 

Our  conversation  in  general,  however,  was  not  about  lit- 
erary subjects.  I  was  put  through  a  rigid  cross-examination, 
lasting  nearly  three  hours  about  my  acquaintances  in  Moscow, 
my  relations  with  foreigners,  my  relations  with  the  prisoners  to 
whom  I  had  been  sending  food  packages,  and  other  matters, 
during  which,  while  perfectly  courteous,  he  made  it  quite  plain 
to  me  that  my  position  was  exceedingly  serious.  In  the  midst 
of  his  questions  a  soldier  brought  in  two  glasses  of  tea  with 
sugar,  a  box  of  cigarettes  was  at  my  elbow,  and  I  sat  in  a  big 
luxurious  leather  arm  chair.  My  answers  were  not  altogether 
satisfactory,  and  the  examination  ended  with  my  being  re- 
turned to  my  companions  in  room  39,  with  the  admonition  to 
think  things  over  and  refresh  my  memory. 

I  had  not  been  back  more  than  a  few  minutes,  however, 
when  one  of  the  prison  guards  appeared  again. 

"Pack  your  clothes,"  he  ordered. 

"Where  am  I  going?"  I  asked. 

"You'll  see  when  you  get  there,"  he  answered. 

I  started  to  put  on  my  fur  coat.  "You  won't  need  that,"  he 
said,  and  then  I  realized  that  I  was  probably  to  be  transferred 
to  solitary  confinement,  the  thing  I  dreaded  most,  and  I  said 
good-bye  to  my  new-found  friends  with  a  sinking  heart,  and 
followed  my  escort  down  the  passage.  It  was  just  as  I  ex- 
pected. I  was  shown  into  an  empty  room,  the  key  turned  in 
the  lock  and  I  was  left  alone. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 
ODINOCHKA 

The  autumn  days  are  very  short  in  Moscow,  and  it  was 
already  beginning  to  grow  dark,  so  I  could  see  little  except 
that  I  was  in  a  small  box-like  room  about  nine  feet  square,  with 
a  large  window,  the  panes  of  which  were  whitened,  so  that  I 
could  not  see  out.  There  was  a  plank  bed,  a  small  table  and 
the  parashka,  nothing  more.  It  was  very  cold  in  the  room, 
and  for  a  while  I  walked  up  and  down  trying  to  keep  warm 
and  hoping  that  the  light  would  soon  be  turned  on.  At  that 
time  I  did  not  know  enough  about  prison  ways  to  realize  that 
the  guard  had  forgotten  to  turn  on  the  light,  and  that  I  could 
knock  and  ask  him  to  do  so.  Later  I  learned  to  knock  and 
ask  for  all  sorts  of  things,  from  a  needle  and  thread  to  darn 
my  stockings  to  a  light  for  a  cigarette.  When  we  were  short 
of  matches  we  always  knocked  on  the  door,  and  when  the  eye 
of  one  of  the  prison  guards  appeared  at  the  peephole,  or 
glazok,  which  is  covered  on  the  outside  by  the  swinging 
metal  number  plate,  one  of  us  would  stick  a  cigarette  through 
and  get  a  light. 

Ordinarily  the  peephole,  though  inconvenient  if  you  happen 
to  be  doing  anything  against  the  rules,  is  not  an  unmixed  evil, 
but  in  the  "odinochka,"  as  solitary  confinement  is  called,  it  is 
nothing  more  or  less  at  first  than  an  instrument  of  torture.  The 
guards  are  instructed  to  keep  a  close  watch  on  prisoners  in  the 
odinochka,  so  at  least  every  half-hour,  day  and  night,  the 
number  plate  is  stealthily  pushed  aside  and  an  eye  appears  in 
the  peephole,  gazes  steadily  for  a  minute,  and  disappears.  For 
some  time  I  was  perpetually  watching  for  the  eye,  but  after  a 
while  I  grew  quite  indifferent  to  it,  and  it  did  not  even  disturb 
my  serenity  when  I  was  dressing,  undressing,  or  engaged  in 
any  of  the  intimate  mysteries  of  the  toilet. 

232 


ODINOCHKA  233 

But  to  return  to  my  first  evening  in  the  odinochka.  In 
about  an  hour  a  boy  appeared  with  a  big  copper  kettle  of  the 
infusion  of  apple  parings  or  dried  carrots,  which  passes  for 
tea  in  Russia  these  days,  at  the  same  time  presenting  me  with  a 
tin  cup  and  a  big  wooden  spoon,  and  turning  on  the  light. 
While  I  ate  the  remaining  portion  of  my  day's  ration  of  three- 
quarters  of  a  pound  of  black  bread,  sipped  my  tea  and  nibbled 
a  cake  of  chocolate,  I  looked  around  my  new  quarters. 

The  room  was  very  dingy,  but  fairly  clean.  The  walls 
were  covered  with  a  faded  flowered  paper  that  suggested 
the  old  rooming-house  days,  and  scribbled  all  over,  as  high 
as  a  man's  head,  with  inscriptions  in  various  languages.  Some 
were  funny,  some  defiant,  others  despairing. 

One  man  had  written — "May  5,  dopros.  May  7,  dopros," 
and  so  on  through  a  long  series  of  dates  until  July  15,  un- 
derneath which  was  written  in  Russian  "now  I've  told  every- 
thing. This  is  the  end."  Another,  a  Frenchman  evidently, 
wrote  in  a  bold  hand  "Rira  bien  qui  rira  le  dernier."  (He 
laughs  best  who  laughs  last.)  A  Dutchman  wrote  in  his  na- 
tive language,  "I  lie  here  between  life  and  death,  but  what- 
ever happens  I  wish  to  testify  to  whoever  may  read  this,  that 
if  I  die,  it  will  be  as  a  loyal  Communist."  Underneath  it  a 
Belgian  had  written  "Vive  la  Belgique."  An  artist  had  sketched 
several  soldier  types,  and  a  mathematician  had  covered  many 
feet  of  wall  space  with  problems  in  geometry. 

There  were  also  innumerable  calendars,  with  each  day 
checked  off,  and  each  ending  abrupt^.  One,  in  English,  run- 
ning for  three  months,  interested  me  very  much,  and  I  won- 
dered if  it  could  have  been  made  by  one  of  the  four  Americans 
whom  I  knew  were  in  "Lubianka  2,"  but  I  could  find  no  trace 
of  the  identity  of  the  man  who  had  written  it. 

Finally  this  amusement  palled,  and  I  sat  on  the  radiator  to 
get  warm,  meanwhile  taking  stock  of  the  situation.  I  had  good 
cause  to  know  that  my  position  was  very  serious,  but  at  the 
same  time  I  figured  it  out  that  unless  the  United  States  actually 
went  to  war  with  Russia  it  was  unlikely  that  I  would  be  shot. 
Knowing  the  policy  of  our  administration,  I  decided  that  it 
would  probably  be  a  waiting  game  on  both  sides,  and  that  the 


234  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

only  thing  for  me  to  do  was  to  keep  my  nerve  and  my  health 
as  well,  if  possible,  and  wait  to  see  what  would  happen.  I  had 
no  reason  either  to  complain  of  my  arrest  or  to  expect  early 
liberation.      It  was  simply  the  fortune  of  war. 

When  I  judged  it  was  about  bed  time,  for  watches  are  not 
allowed  prisoners,  and  mine  had  been  taken  with  my  other  valu- 
ables, I  lay  down  and  tried  to  sleep,  but  sleep  was  impossible. 
My  room  was  directly  opposite  the  entrance  door,  where  there 
was  a  constant  stream  of  traffic.  New  prisoners  arrived 
all  night,  others  were  being  taken  to  or  coming  back  from  the 
dopros,  and  every  time  the  door  was  opened  there  was  a 
loud  knock,  followed  by  the  challenge  of  the  sentry,  and  a 
clanking  sound  as  the  chain  which  held  it  was  unfastened. 
During  slack  times  the  other  guards  gathered  round,'  the 
sentry,  exchanging  jokes.  Occasionally  there  were  frantic 
knocks  from  prisoners  who  demanded  in  loud  tones  to  be  taken 
to  the  toilet;  occasionally  there  was  the  sound  of  women's 
voices  quarreling  in  another  room,  and  I  was  continually 
haunted  by  the  eye  at  the  peephole.  Finally  I  dozed  off  in 
sheer  exhaustion.  When  I  woke  up  it  was  light,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  the  door  was  opened  and  a  woman's  hand  and  arm 
appeared  with  a  broom.  From  previous  experience  I  knew  that 
this  was  the  signal  for  me  to  clean  my  room,  so  I  jumped  up, 
swept  the  floor,  piled  the  refuse  in  a  corner  by  the  door, 
placed  the  broom  beside  it,  and  proceeded  to  carry  out  the 
rest  of  the  day's  routine  I  had  planned  for  myself. 

First  I  made  my  bed,  which  process  consisted  in  conduct- 
ing a  hunt  for  the  bed  bugs  who  had  invaded  the  sanctity  of 
my  bedding  roll  during  the  night;  then  I  knocked  and  asked 
to  be  taken  to  the  toilet,  where  I  took  a  sponge  bath  in  cold 
water.  Soon  came  the  day's  bread  ration,  and  a  portion  of 
sugar  for  two  days,  about  two  and  a  half  teaspoons.  I  spread 
a  clean  piece  of  paper  on  the  table  and  sat  down  to  breakfast, 
after  which  I  took  a  walk — five  hundred  times  the  length  of 
the  room  and  back.  I  repeated  this  every  evening.  At  about 
eleven  o'clock  the  Commandant  appeared,  took  a  quick  ap- 
praising look  around  the  room,  and  inquired  if  I  had  any  re- 
quest to  make.    I  asked  for  paper,  pencil  and  a  few  books.    He 


ODINOCHKA  235 

told  me  that  I  must  first  have  the  permission  of  my  sledovatl, 
the  examining  judge,  but  he  did  not  explain  that  I  might  ask 
for  permission;  so  I  resigned  myself  to  waiting  until  I  was 
next  called  for  cross-examination,  as  I  thought  I  probably 
would  be  in  a  few  days. 

Dinner,  consisting  of  a  bowl  of  herring  soup,  followed  by 
a  bowl  of  kasha,  the  Russian  national  dish,  a  cereal  made 
of  various  grains,  most  of  which  are  new  to  Western  palates, 
was  served  at  noon.  One  sort,  is  I  think,  millet,  another 
whole  buckwheat.  I  had  already  learned  to  eat  kasha,  but  I 
never  could  go  the  herring  soup,  though  occasionally  when  I 
was  very  hungry  I  held  my  nose  and  ate  one  of  the  unpeeled 
potatoes  that  floated  in  it.  Later  the  herring  soup  was  varied, 
sometimes  for  some  weeks  at  a  stretch,  by  a  thin  meat  broth, 
and  on  Sundays,  when  we  had  no  supper,  it  was  thicker  and 
sometimes  contained  a  piece  of  meat.  The  soup  and  kasha 
were  served  in  wooden  bowls,  some  of  them  of  the  beautiful 
enamel  work  which  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  Russia's 
fascinating  peasant  industries.  Supper  was  served  at  five, 
and  consisted  of  soup  only,  followed  by  tea.  This  was  my 
regular  prison  fare  for  eight  months.  Compared  to  that  served 
in  Soviet  dining-rooms  outside,  it  was  a  little  better  if  any- 
thing, and  knowing  as  I  did,  standards  of  life  in  Moscow,  I 
realized  that  I  was  no  worse  off  in  this  respect  than  thousands 
of  other  people.  I  can  well  imagine,  however,  that  strangers 
who  were  arrested  almost  on  their  arrival  in  Moscow  would 
regard  it  as  starvation  diet,  and  certainly  no  one  could  get  fat 
on  it. 

In  spite  of  all  efforts  to  keep  myself  busy  and  amused  the 
first  day  and  the  succeeding  ones  were  terribly  long.  I  re- 
sorted to  all  sorts  of  expedients  to  pass  the  time.  In  my  bag 
I  found  some  paper  cigarette  boxes  and  a  cardboard  toothpow- 
der  box.  Out  of  these  I  made  a  pack  of  tiny  cards,  with  a 
pencil  I  had  managed  to  hide,  through  all  the  searches  of  my 
belongings.  I  was  playing  solitaire  very  peacefully  when  my 
enemy  of  the  peephole  looked  in,  saw  me,  unlocked  the  door 
and  ordered  me  to  give  them  up,  for  cards  are  not  allowed  in 
the  Checka.    Then  I  played  jackstraws  with  dead  matches  and 


236  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

a  bent  hairpin.  Then  I  sang  under  my  breath  all  the  songs 
I  had  ever  known,  recited  all  the  poems  I  remembered  and  gave 
myself  oral  examinations  in  languages  and  history. 

I  shall  never  forget  a  little  incident  which  happened  one 
day  when  I  was  feeling  particularly  blue,  illustrating  the  kind- 
liness of  many  of  the  prison  guards,  which  I  often  experienced 
in  the  long  months  that  followed.  I  had  completely  exhausted 
my  supply  of  cigarettes  and  was  wondering  what  on  earth  I 
would  do  without  them  when  one  of  the  guards  appeared 
with  the  cigarettes  which  were  part  of  the  regular  prison  ra- 
tion. The  number  given  out  varied  with  the  supply — some- 
times we  received  twenty-five  a  week,  at  other  times,  six  a 
day  and  occasionally  none  at  all  for  two  weeks.  On  this  oc- 
casion I  asked  him  how  many  I  was  entitled  to.  "Sixteen," 
he  replied.  I  suppose  I  must  have  looked  disappointed,  for 
after  glancing  at  me  sharply  he  counted  out  sixteen  in  a  loud 
voice,  laid  down  thirty-five  on  the  table,  and  went  away  with- 
out another  word. 

Finally,  when  my  first  week  was  nearly  up,  the  monotony 
and  isolation  had  got  on  my  nerves  to  such  an  extent  that  I 
decided  I  could  not  stand  it  much  longer,  and  resolved  on  a 
bold  stroke.  I  wrote  to  Moghilevski  and  told  him  I  had  a 
very  important  communication  to  make. 

In  two  hours  I  was  called  to  his  room.  "Well,  what  is  it 
you  have  to  tell  me?"  he  asked. 

"I  want  to  tell  you  that  it  is  very  important  for  me  to  talk 
to  somebody,"  I  said.  "You  are  the  only  person  I  can  ask 
to  talk  to  and  I  will  be  very  glad  to  have  you  cross-examine 
me  again.  If  you  don't  want  to  have  any  more  conversations 
with  me  at  frequent  intervals  please  put  me  in  a  room  with 
other  people.     I  can't  stand  being  alone  any  longer." 

For  a  moment  he  just  stared  at  me,  then  he  did  cross- 
examine  me  again,  and  finally  turned  me  over  to  his  secretary, 
a  studious  young  Jew  with  a  passion  for  doing  problems  in 
geometry  when  he  wasn't  trying  to  solve  personal  equations. 
The  end  of  it  all  was  that  I  was  informed  that  while  I  had 
failed  to  give  a  satisfactory  account  of  myself,  the  charges 
against  me  would  not  be  pushed  at  the  moment,  and  that  my 


ODINOCHKA  237 

request  to  be  transferred  to  another  room  would  be  granted. 
After  that  I  did  not  see  Moghilevski  again  for  over  two 
months.  I  was  rather  sorry  on  the  whole,  for  although  we 
disagreed  on  practically  all  subjects  from  Communism  to  her- 
rings, of  which  he  was  evidently  fond,  for  he  often  had  a  bowl 
of  our  prison  soup  for  his  dinner,  his  was  a  keen,  alert  mind 
and  he  was  a  very  stimulating  and  resourceful  enemy. 

After  my  talk  with  his  secretary  I  was  transferred  to  the 
general  room  where  I  spent  the  next  six  months,  with  plenty 
of  company,  for  we  were  rarely  less  than  seven,  and  often  as 
many  as  eleven  or  twelve  for  days  at  a  time. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
CLOSE  QUARTERS 

The  room  to  which  I  was  transferred  was  much  larger 
than  any  I  had  seen  before,  but  my  first  impression  of  it  was 
that  it  was  exactly  the  shape  of  the  coffins  that  are  used  all 
over  Europe.  It  was  rectangular,  about  eighteen  feet  long, 
possibly  seven  feet  wide  at  one  end,  and  ten  at  the  other. 
There  were  two  windows,  whitened  of  course,  at  either  end. 
They  were  double,  with  an  air  space  between,  which  we  used 
for  cold  storage  purposes,  dropping  food  down  on  cords 
through  a  small  pane  at  the  top,  which  opened  on  a  hinge. 
This  little  opening  was  our  only  means  of  obtaining  fresh  air, 
as  the  windows  were  hermetically  sealed  with  putty.  Through 
it,  by  standing  on  the  sill,  a  glimpse  of  the  courts  into  which  the 
windows  opened  could  be  obtained,  but  not  even  a  patch  of  sky 
was  visible.  During  the  six  months  I  lived  there  I  never  saw 
the  sun,  moon  or  sky,  except  twice,  once  in  December,  and 
again  in  February,  when  we  were  taken  out  to  one  of  the  public 
baths  with  an  armed  escort,  and  I  never  left  the  room  except 
for  our  morning  and  evening  trips  to  the  toilet,  or  when  I  was 
summoned  to  a  dopros.  It  was  well  heated  by  steam,  but  the 
atmosphere  was  terrible  owing  to  the  utter  inadequacy  of  the 
ventilation  and  the  chronic  aversion  of  most  Russians  to 
drafts. 

When  I  entered  it  was  occupied  by  seven  women, .  some 
sitting,  some  lying  on  their  beds,  which  were  spread  with  non- 
descript coverings,  here  a  plaid  shawl,  there  a  silk  quilt  and  a 
lace  pillow,  farther  on  another  with  only  the  straw  pallet  pro- 
vided by  the  prison  authorities.  On  a  long  table  there  was  a 
miscellaneous  assortment  of  cups  and  utensils.  From  under 
the  beds  protruded  pieces  of  baggage  of  all  descriptions,  from 
peasant  sacks  and  baskets  to  fitted  dressing  bags. 

238 


CLOSE  QUARTERS  239 

The  women  were  just  as  conglomerate  as  their  belongings. 
They  all  stared  at  me  curiously,  appraisingly,  and,  as  I  thought, 
in  a  rather  unfriendly  manner,  but  I  afterwards  learned  to 
understand  this  apparent  hostility  and  insatiable  curiosity  with 
regard  to  newcomers.  Living  as  we  did,  in  such  crowded 
quarters,  an  addition  to  our  number  meant  more  physical  dis- 
comfort; then  she  might  be  a  spy.  On  the  other  hand  we  were 
always  hungry  to  hear  the  latest  news  from  people  who  had 
just  been  arrested,  and  we  welcomed  anything  that  was  a  break 
in  the  monotonous  prison  routine.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
Slavs  are  the  kindliest,  gentlest,  most  hospitable  people  in  the 
world,  wonderfully  lovable  and  sweet-tempered.  I  was  thrown 
almost  entirely  with  them  during  my  term  of  imprisonment, 
for  I  suspect  that  I  was  purposely  isolated  from  persons  from 
Western  countries,  and  I  never  once  had  an  unpleasant  en- 
counter with  any  of  my  fellow  prisoners. 

Besides  Russians  I  had  Poles,  Finns,  Letts,  Lithuanians, 
Esthonians,  Ukrainians  and  Jews  as  companions.  They  were 
drawn  from  every  class  of  society,  from  great  ladies  to  illiter- 
ate peasants ;  they  represented  every  political  party  from  mon- 
archists to  anarchists.  There  were  some  disagreements  in  our 
room  of  course,  but  on  the  whole  we  pulled  together  remark- 
ably well  and  no  backward  male  can  ever  tell  me  again  that 
women  are  incapable  of  team-work.  In  Russia  there  are  no 
generalizations  of  this  kind  about  women;  there  is  no  femin- 
ism, there  are  no  "women's  questions."  Women  are  just  peo- 
ple. Perhaps  this  is  the^ result  of  the  "broad"  Slav  nature, 
perhaps  it  is  one  of  the  good  effects  of  the  Revolution.  But  I 
have  gone  a  long  way  from  my  story. 

As  I  dumped  my  bags  on  the  floor  and  looked  around  for 
a  vacant  bed,  one  of  the  inmates,  a  slender,  aristocratic  looking 
woman  in  a  worn  out  tailor-made  suit  that  had  once  been  a 
Parisian  creation,  and  wearing  the  shuffling  straw  slippers, 
known  as  lapiti,  which  are  given  out  to  prisoners  by  the 
prison  authorities,  advanced  to  meet  me  with  a  smile,  very 
much  as  if  I  had  been  a  casual  caller  in  a  drawing-room. 

"I  see  that  you  are  a  foreigner,"  she  said  in  beautiful 
French.    "This  is  very  poor  hospitality  to  offer  you  in  Russia." 


240  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

We  both  laughed,  and  then  she  helped  me  to  unpack  my  be- 
longings while  we  exchanged  information.  She  was  Made- 
moiselle Helena  Sologoub,  a  member  of  one  of  the  oldest  and 
most  noted  families  in  Russia.  Their  Moscow  home,  a  beau- 
tiful old  eighteenth  century  house  on  the  Povarskaya,  which 
is  described  by  Tolstoi  as  the  home  of  the  hero  Piotr  in  his 
great  novel  "War  and  Peace,"  is  now  used  by  the  Commis- 
sariat of  Education  as  a  people's  palace  where  lectures  and 
concerts  of  the  "Prolet-Cult"  are  held.  Up  to  the  time  of  her 
arrest  Mademoiselle  Sologoub  had  been  permitted  to  retain  a 
room  there.  She  had  been  accused  of  acquaintance  with  a 
White  officer  of  whom  she  had  never  even  heard,  and  had  been 
kept  in  solitary  confinement  for  two  months.  We  became  good 
friends  and  I  was  very  sorr}'  several  weeks  later  when  she  was 
ordered  to  pack  and  leave.  I  did  not  know  what  had  become 
of  her  until  a  long  time  afterward,  when  a  prisoner  arriving 
from  the  Butierki,  Moscow's  largest  prison,  told  me  that  she 
had  been  there  for  several  months,  finally  being  transferred 
to  an  internment  camp. 

My  other  fellow  prisoners  were  three  women  clerks  from 
the  War  Office,  who  had  been  arrested  as  witnesses  in  con- 
nection with  an  alleged  counter-revolutionary  plot  in  one  of 
the  departments,  a  Lettish  Communist,  who  was  arrested  with 
her  husband,  suspected  of  being  an  "agent  provocateur,"  the 
young  wife  of  a  naval  officer  who  was  imprisoned  in  the  ad- 
joining room,  and  a  sixteen  year  old  girl  from  Archangel, 
who  had  been  kept  in  the  local  Checka,  threatened  with  death, 
for  six  weeks,  because  she  had  repeated  a  remark  she  had 
heard  to  the  effect  that  there  would  soon  be  a  counter-revolu- 
tion. I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  say  that  Moscow  had  more  sense 
than  Archangel.  After  three  weeks  in  prison  she  was  ques- 
tioned by  a  woman  examiner  and  immediately  offered  her 
choice  between  being  sent  back  to  Archangel  or  remaining  in 
Moscow  and  continuing  her  education.  The  fact  that  minors 
who  are  arrested  are  invariably  questioned  by  women  and 
treated  with  great  kindness  is  a  point  in  favor  of  the  Checka, 
though  it  is  done  with  a  view  to  ultimately  making  good  Com- 
munists. 


CLOSE  QUARTERS  241 

It  is  wonderful  how  naturally  one  drops  into  the  routine 
of  prison  life.  I  was  fortunate  on  arriving  in  finding  a  vacant 
bed  at  the  narrow  end  of  the  room  next  to  the  window.  There 
was  just  enough  space  to  move  freely  between  me  and  the 
bed  opposite,  but  I  had  light,  the  benefit  of  what  little  fresh 
air  was  to  be  had,  and  the  window  sill  to  use  as  a  bureau.  Be- 
sides it  was  a  wonderful  strategic  position,  commanding  a  view 
of  the  whole  room,  and  as  the  door  was  at  the  extreme  end  of 
one  of  the  long  sides,  I  escaped  the  eye  at  the  peephole.  Go- 
ings and  comings  afifected  me  very  little — I  could  sit  up  in  my 
corner  and  survey  the  confusion  with  a  delightful  feeling  of 
aloofness. 

Occasionally,  however,  even  my  small  measure  of  privacy 
was  invaded.  Eight  beds  covered  the  available  wall  space,  nine 
or  ten  meant  beds  in  the  wide  part  of  the  room  and  the  shifting 
of  the  table  nearer  the  narrow  end.  Once,  for  several  nights, 
a  woman  slept  on  the  floor  between  my  bed  and  my  neigh- 
bor's opposite,  and  I  had  to  literally  walk  over  her  to  get  out. 
There  were  then  eleven  of  us,  and  there  was  absolutely  no  floor 
space  left,  so  when  another  prisoner  arrived  about  two  a.m. 
we  cleared  off  our  cups  and  dishes  and  put  her  on  the  table. 
When  she  had  just  gotten  settled  still  another  appeared,  so  we 
offered  her  our  one  chair,  and  she  sat  up  for  the  rest  of  the 
night.  These  congested  times  were  luckily  not  very  frequent, 
and  our  average  number  was  seven  or  eight. 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  I  was  really  very  busy  in  prison, 
and  while  each  day  seemed  interminable,  the  time  on  the  whole 
passed  very  quickly.  Realizing  the  importance  of  getting 
some  exercise  I  used  to  do  Swedish  gymnastics  morning  and 
night,  to  the  constant  wonder  and  amazement  of  my  compan- 
ions. One  evening  a  woman  who  had  just  been  arrested,  after 
watching  me  go  through  my  gyrations,  asked  me  very  serious- 
ly if  that  was  the  way  we  prayed  to  God  in  America. 

Then  there  was  the  daily  hunt  for  vermin.  All  the  beds 
were  infested  with  bed  bugs  and  they  had  to  be  gone  over 
several  times  a  week.  At  first  I  did  not  realize  the  importance 
of  special  care  of  the  hair,  and  consequently  acquired  what  are 
known  to  the  learned  as  peticulosis  and  to  school  children  at 


242  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

home  as  "nits."  It  took  me  some  time  to  get  rid  of  them,  and 
then  only  thanks  to  a  good  friend  who  gave  me  a  fine  tooth 
comb  which  was  one  of  my  chief  treasures  for  the  rest  of  my 
term  of  imprisonment.  When  we  had  prisoners  from  the 
South  we  were  pestered  with  fleas,  the  most  ehisive  of  all 
plaguey  insects.  I  always  inspected  my  underclothes  twice 
a  day,  for  we  had  many  cooties,  especially  when  prisoners 
arrived  from  a  distance,  and  cooties  are  not  only  disagreeable 
but  dangerous  in  Russia,  for  they  are  the  carriers  of  the 
dreaded  typhus.  Occasionally  we  had  lazy  fellowprisoners 
who  refused  to  join  in  the  daily  hunt,  but  public  opinion  usually 
forced  them  to  it  in  the  end. 

In  spite  of  all  our  precautions  we  had  three  cases  of  typhus 
during  the  winter.  As  soon  as  the  diagnosis  was  clear  they 
were  removed,  and  after  each  one  we  waited  for  two  weeks 
to  find  out  if  we  were  infected.  There  were  also  several  cases 
of  syphilis  in  the  acute  state,  one  being  that  of  a  young  girl 
who  went  suddenly  insane  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  and  had 
to  be  taken  off  to  the  hospital.  We  had  many  cases  of  acute 
hysteria,  and  I  was  often  kept  busy  for  several  hours  applying 
cold  compresses  and  administering  valerian. 

We  obtained  all  simple  remedies  from  the  prison  dispen- 
sary. Medical  service,  while  not  adequate,  was  fairly  satis- 
factory. There  was  a  woman  physician  in  charge  of  the 
prison,  and  she  made  periodical  rounds  of  inspection,  usually 
once  a  week.  There  was  a  "felcher,"  a  third  year  medical 
student,  who  could  be  summoned  at  any  time  during  the  day  or 
night,  though  occasionally  he  was  not  on  hand  when  wanted; 
and  there  were  cases  in  our  room  when  acutely  ill  persons  were 
obliged  to  wait  for  several  hours  without  receiving  medical 
attendance. 

Prisoners  requiring  the  services  of  a  physician  were  sup- 
posed to  register  their  names,  when  the  Commandant  made  his 
rounds,  which  was  usually  several  times  a  week,  and  they 
received  a  visit  from  the  "felcher"  some  time  within  the  next 
twenty-four  hours.  Simple  remedies,  such  as  soda,  castor  oil 
and  aspirin,  could  always  be  obtained  from  the  dispensary  and 
prisoners  were  allowed  to  receive  medicine  from  their  friends 


CLOSE  QUARTERS  243 

outside.  All  drugs  sent  in  this  manner  were  subjected  to  analy- 
sis by  the  prison  physician  before  being  given  to  the  inmates. 
Cases  of  acute  illness  were  removed  to  the  hospital  as  soon 
as  possible  and  the  prison  authorities  were  always  on  the  watch 
for  infectious  diseases,  which  might  cause  an  epidemic  in  the 
prison.  But  people  suffering  with  chronic  complaints  received 
little  attention  and  were  not  able  to  obtain  the  necessary  care 
or  diet.  In  the  other  prisons  in  Moscow  special  rations  are 
provided  for  such  persons,  but  in  the  Checka  no  arrangements 
existed  for  the  Bolnichni  Stol,  hospital  table.  Pregnant 
women  and  persons  suffering  from  undernourishment  received 
larger  portions  of  the  regular  rations,  that  was  all.  During  my 
eight  months  in  the  Checka  five  or  six  women  who  were  ex- 
pecting babies  within  a  comparatively  short  time  were  kept 
on  our  floor  for  from  two  weeks  to  three  months.  The  close 
quarters,  bad  air,  and  inadequate  diet  were  particularly  hard 
on  them,  and  it  seemed  curiously  inconsistent  to  me,  in  view 
of  the  Soviet  Government's  avowed  principle  of  caring  first  of 
all  for  children. 

The  problem  of  keeping  clean  took  much  time.  Occasion- 
ally I  cajoled  one  of  the  guards  into  bringing  me  a  kettle  of 
hot  water  from  the  huge  samovar  machine  in  the  court  which 
supplied  the  prison,  but  usually  there  was  no  hot  water  to  be 
had,  so  I  used  to  save  hot  tea  morning  and  evening  in  empty 
bottles  that  had  been  sent  to  the  prisoners  with  milk.  At  night 
I  took  a  tea  bath  in  a  small  earthenware  bowl  that  had  been 
sent  me  by  the  Czecho-Slovak  Red  Cross,  and  in  the  morning 
I  washed  my  underclothes  in  the  same  manner,  one  or  two 
pieces  a  day.  I  made  coarse  lace  with  a  crooked  hairpin  from 
linen  threads  drawn  from  an  old  bag,  took  Russian  lessons 
from  my  companions  and  helped  to  mend  the  prison  linen. 

All  the  prisoners  are  allowed  to  wear  their  own  clothes 
and  no  uniforms  are  provided,  but  those  who  are  arrested  with- 
out any  baggage  may  obtain  shirts  and  drawers,  furnished  once 
a  week.  At  first  men  and  women  alike  were  provided  with 
these  garments,  but  after  a  while  the  privilege  of  wearing 
Russian  B.  V.  D.'s  was  withdrawn  from  the  ladies,  owing  to 
their  proclivity  for  altering  them  to  conform  to  the  lines  of 


244  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

feminine  lingerie.  The  shirts  we  mended  were  sometimes 
kasicnni,  the  regulation  blouses,  such  as  are  furnished  the 
Red  Army.  At  other  times  we  had  shirts  of  all  styles  and 
materials,  of  finest  linen,  batiste  and  silk,  sometimes  with 
embroidered  monograms.  The  makers'  marks  in  the  collar 
bands  were  from  all  parts  of  the  world :  Paris,  London,  Tokio, 
New  York,  Budapest,  Berlin.  These  garments  had  either  been 
requisitioned  from  former  bourjeoi,  or  left  behind  by  prisoners 
of  all  nationalities,  who  were  either  freed  or  met  a  grimmer 
fate.  I  often  wove  romances  about  the  former  owners  as  I 
patched  and  darned. 

This  work  was  purely  voluntary.  We  liked  it  because  it 
gave  us  needles  and  thread  to  mend  our  own  clothes  and  the 
privilege  of  having  scissors,  which  as  a  rule  are  strictly  for- 
bidden. I  never  realized  before  to  how  many  uses  one  pair 
of  scissors  could  be  put.  We  employed  them  to  cut  our  bread, 
open  tin  cans,  trim  our  hair  and  finger  nails,  mend  our  shoes, 
and  even  to  carve  meat  and  sausage. 

I  believe,  as  a  whole,  the  women  prisoners  under  exactly 
the  same  conditions  were  relatively  far  more  comfortable  than 
the  men.  We  took  a  great  interest  in  keeping  our  room  as 
clean  as  possible  and  we  often  managed  to  make  our  prison 
fare  more  palatable  by  simple  expedients.  For  instance  when 
the  potatoes  were  badly  cooked  or  frozen,  as  they  usually  were, 
we  used  to  fish  them  out  of  our  soup  at  dinner  time,  put  them 
in  one  large  bowl  and  mash  them  with  a  wooden  spoon  until 
they  were  reduced  to  a  paste  which  we  flavored  with  a  little 
salt.  Then  we  made  them  into  croquettes  and  dropped  them 
into  our  hot  soup  in  the  evening.  Although  we  had  a  great 
many  lice,  I  rarely  saw  a  woman  with  underclothes  as  filthy 
as  the  prison  underwear  worn  by  the  men.  Of  course  it  had 
all  been  boiled  and  laundered  when  we  received  it  to  mend,  but 
the  seams  were  coated  with  deposits  of  eggs  from  all  sorts  of 
vermin. 

Besides,  we  were  all  very  ingenious  at  inventing  games  and 
amusements.  We  had  several  packs  of  cards  made  of  the 
mouthpieces  of  the  Russian  cigarettes,  chessmen  and  checkers 
made  of  hardened  bread  and  paper  dominoes,  all  these  being 


CLOSE  QUARTERS  245 

kept  carefully  hidden,  for  games  are  not  allowed.  One  of  our 
favorite  pastimes  was  fortune-telling  with  cards,  at  which 
most  Russian  women  are  adepts,  and  in  which  they  believe 
implicitly.  Once  we  had  books,  for  two  blissful  weeks  at  New 
Years',  but  they  were  afterwards  taken  away  from  us.  We 
often  sang  Russian  songs  in  the  evening  after  the  lights  were 
out,  in  an  undertone,  of  course,  for  we  were  not  allowed  to 
sing  or  to  speak  in  tones  that  could  be  heard  outside  in  the 
hall.  Most  of  these  songs  were  traditional  melodies  that  had 
been  sung  in  prisons  in  Russia  and  Siberia  for  many  decades. 
I  learned  a  great  many  of  them  at  the  time,  writing  down  the 
words,  but  they  were  all  taken  away  from  me  when  I  left  the 
prison.  Perhaps  my  favorite  was  ''Baikal,"  a  Siberian  prison 
song  that  tells  of  the  escape  of  a  prisoner  from  the  galleys 
in  the  mountains  of  Akatuya,  bordering  on  Lake  Baikal ;  how 
he  rigs  up  a  boat  from  a  herring  tub,  with  a  torn  shirt  for  a 
sail  and  crosses  the  lake  after  running  away  from  the  penal 
settlements  at  Shilka  and  Nerchinsk.  He  calls  on  the  Bar- 
guzin,  the  fair  wind,  to  carry  him. across  the  lake.  Good 
comrades  had  helped  him  to  get  away,  the  guards  in  the  moun- 
tains fired  and  missed  him,  the  wild  beasts  have  spared  him, 
he  has  kept  a  sharp  lookout  while  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
towns,  the  peasants  gave  him  bread,  the  young  boys  filled  his 
pipe  with  mahorka;  now  he  is  covering  the  last  stage  of  the 
flight  to  freedom — the  trip  in  his  frail  craft  across  the  "Holy 
Sea." 

Another  song  is  called  "Slushai."    It  begins: 

Like  the  close  of  day,  like  the  conscience  of  a  tyrant, 

The  prison  nights  are  dark, 

Darker  than  the  nights  that  come  with  the  storm  is  the  darkness  of  the 

dread  prison. 
Below  the  sentries  march  lazily,  keeping  an  eye  on  the  prison  walls. 
The  poor  convict  at  his  window  hears  their  challenge,  "Slushai." 

The  song  then  described  how  the  silence  of  the  prison  is  de- 
ceptive. It  is  alive  with  the  inarticulate  murmurs  of  the  pris- 
oners who  are  thirsting  for  liberty. 

Suddenly  a  noise  is  heard — a  prisoner  has  broken  his  bars 


246  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

and  jumped   from  the  window.     Something  soft   falls  in  a 
huddled  mass  at  the  sentry's  feet ;  one  prisoner  is  free. 

Still  another  song  which  has  long  been  a  favorite  and  which 
I  happen  to  remember  as  I  translated  it  into  English  doggerel, 
runs  as  follows : 

Dawn  and  noon  and  glowing  sunset, 
To  my  prison  bring  no  light. 
Watchful  guards  beneath  my  window. 
Da  ya  ye,  by  day  and  night. 

Little  need  you  have  to  guard  me, 
Thick  and  strong  my  prison  walls. 
Iron  bars  twixt  me  and  freedom 
Da  ya  ye,  deaf  to  all  my  piteous  calls. 

Chains !  my  clanking  iron  fetters, 
You  I  cannot  break  or  bend. 
You  will  be  my  steel  clad  guardians 
Da  ya  ye,  till  life  shall  end. 

Then  there  were  other  songs  which  were  very  popular, 
the  old  revolutionary  melodies,  such  as  the  "Varshavianka," 
the  "Red  Flag,"  and  the  funeral  march  of  the  Nihilists.  The 
last  named  begins  as  follows : 

Ye  victims,  who  fell  in  the  desperate  fight 
From  love  without  measure  for  the  people. 
You  sacrificed  all  that  you  could  for  their  sakes 
To  bring  them  a  life  of  happiness  and  freedom. 

The  last  verse  is : 

When  we  accompany  them  to  the  grave 
We  say  to  our  fallen  comrades, 
Farewell,  brothers,  you  loyally  trod 
The  shining  road  to  freedom. 

There  were  other  present-day  political  songs  which  were 
very  popular.  One  was  "Yabliki,"  which  is  sung  all  over 
Russia,  the  various  political  parties  making  up  the  verses 
to  suit  their  fancy.  "Yabliki,"  I  should  explain,  means 
"apples,"  and  it  is  a  slang  word  for  describing  what  we  should 
in  America,  term  "boobs"  or  "simps."    The  chorus  is  : 

O,  little  apple,  whither  away. 

The  Checka  will  get  you,  some  fine  day — 


CLOSE  QUARTERS  247 

One  of  the  verses  runs  as  follows : 

I  am  in  the  Bochka  *  eating 
Kasha  from  a  bowl, 
Trotzki  and  Lenin  are  boasting, 
"We've  swallowed  Russia  whole." 
In  the  Bochka  drinking  tea. 
Nothing  more  to  fear, 
My  man  is  a  Bolshevik, 
And  I'm  a  profiteer. 

There  was  a  satirical  song  which  was  much  sung  by  the  Social 
Revolutionaries.  "He,  he  Russki  Narod — Hey,  hey,  Russian 
people,"  which  satirized  the  Checka,  the  commissars  and  the 
Soviet  system  of  government. 

Besides  there  were  many  beautiful  folk  songs,  of  which 
I  never  tired,  all  with  plaintive,  haunting  melodies,  and  the 
oldest  of  all  the  Russian  national  songs,  the  ballad  of  "Styenka 
Razin,"  the  first  Russian  revolutionary,  who  was  executed  in 
1572,  in  the  Red  Square,  which  took  its  name  from  his  execu- 
tion. 

Still  another  popular  amusement  is  one  that  is  not  con- 
sidered good  form  in  other  countries,  but  which  is  perfectly 
correct  in  Russia  at  the  present  time.  This  was  looking 
through  the  keyhole.  If  anything  exciting  was  going  on  out- 
side, we  took  turns.  The  young  wife  of  the  Naval  officer  next 
door  always  had  the  right  of  way  when  the  occupants  of  that 
room  were  taken  out  to  or  returned  from  the  toilet,  and  I 
had  first  call  when  General  Klembovsky  went  out  for  his  daily 
walk.  He  was  in  solitary  confinement  for  a  long  time  in  a 
room  opposite  ours,  and  I  was  interested  in  him  because  I  had 
often  met  his  wife,  before  my  arrest,  at  the  Checka  when  she 
was  bringing  him  peredachas  or  food  packages,  and  I  was 
bound  on  a  similar  errand  for  the  American  prisoners.  Be- 
sides he  was  chairman  of  the  committee  of  Former  Generals 
acting  as  an  advisory  commission  to  the  General  Staff  of  the 
Red  Army  during  the  war  with  Poland,  of  which  my  great 
friend,  General  Brusilov,  was  a  member. 

Speaking  Russian,  I  was  able  to  learn  the  meaning  of  many 
mysterious  noises  that  went  on  in  the  Checka,  which  have 

♦Bochka  is  the  Russian  slang  for  a  low-class  restaurant. 


248  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

often  struck  terror  to  foreigners  unfamiliar  with  the  language, 
and  to  read  the  prison  rules  posted  on  the  doors,  which  kept 
me  from  the  innocent  violation  of  regulations  and  the  conse- 
quent penalty  of  the  dark  room  or  the  cellar,  called  the 
podval. 

During  my  entire  stay  in  the  Checka  no  one  from  our  room 
was  ever  sent  to  the  podval,  but  two  women  were  put  in 
the  dark  room.  One  of  these  was  a  young  Russian  girl  who 
had  demanded  to  be  allowed  to  go  to  the  bathroom  out  of  her 
regular  turn.  We  happened  to  have  a  very  disagreeable  guard 
that  day  and  he  refused  to  let  her  go.  Upon  this  she  grew  very 
indignant,  which  caused  bad  feeling ;  then  a  little  later  she  de- 
manded to  be  allowed  to  go  to  the  corridor  and  get  a  glass 
of  water.  This  was  also  refused  and  she  told  him  what  she 
thought  of  him.  A  few  minutes  later  he  appeared.  "Na 
dopros,"  he  said.  She  followed  him  out  of  the  room  and 
instead  of  being  taken  to  the  examining  judge's  office,  she 
was  taken  to  a  small  room  on  our  floor,  absolutely  dark  except 
for  a  little  light  that  came  in  from  the  transom.  It  contained 
no  furniture,  not  even  a  wooden  bed.  She  was  kept  there  for 
twenty- four  hours  without  any  place  to  sit  or  lie  down  on, 
but  she  received  the  regular  prison  fare.  We  prevailed  on 
the  guard  to  take  her  a  blanket  and  a  plate  of  food. 

The  guards  sounded  much  gruffer  than  they  really  were, 
and  very  often  apparent  threats  were  only  rough  jokes  or 
friendly  admonitions.  Nothing  was  to  be  gotten  by  threaten- 
ing them,  but  they  were  almost  always  responsive  to  dignity 
and  quiet  good  breeding.  Many  of  them  were  actually  in 
sympathy  with  us,  and  not  a  few  were  deserters  who  had  been 
condemned  to  be  shot  and  pardoned  on  condition  that  they 
should  work  in  the  Checka. 

Once  we  were  all  playing  cards  and  although  we  sat  with 
our  backs  to  the  door  the  guard  who  was  looking  in  through 
the  peephole  as  usual,  suspected  something  of  the  kind  and 
burst  into  the  room  very  suddenly.  I  seized  the  cards  and 
crumpled  them  up  in  my  fist. 

"You're  playing  cards,"  he  said  severely. 

"Never,"  said  I.     "We  never  play  cards  in  this  room." 


CLOSE  QUARTERS  249 

"What  have  you  got  in  your  hand?"  he  demanded. 

I  partly  opened  my  clenched  fist.  "Only  a  little  waste 
paper,"  I  said  casually.  "How's  the  weather  this  morning?" 
whereupon  he  burst  out  laughing  and  left  the  room. 

The  many  stories  afloat  about  the  nightly  shootings  in  the 
cellars  of  the  Lubianka  are  absolutely  without  foundation  at 
the  present  time.  Prisoners  condemned  to  death  are  kept  in 
solitary  confinement  for  a  time,  then  taken  to  be  shot  to  a 
place  which  I  was  told  is  in  the  Baranski  Pereoulak,  an  out- 
of-the-way  street.  During  my  stay  in  the  Lubianka  I  only 
twice  heard  the  automobile  which  is  supposed  to  drown  the 
noise  of  the  shooting  at  night,  and  then  only  for  twenty  min- 
utes or  so.  Once  I  heard  a  prisoner  on  our  floor  being  taken 
out  to  be  shot.  He  had  completely  lost  his  nerve,  and  strug- 
gled all  the  way  down  the  hall  with  his  captors,  yelling  pite- 
ously  all  the  while^ — "Oh,  God,  I  won't  go,  I  won't  go." 

In  general  I  believe  that  the  number  of  political  executions 
in  Russia  at  the  present  time  is  very  small  in  Moscow,  all  but 
the  most  flagrant  conspirators  and  spies  being  condemned  to 
internment  camps  or  prisons. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

PRISON  HOLIDAYS 

It  would  seem,  naturally,  that  holidays  would  be  harder  to 
endure  than  other  days  in  prison,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  this 
was  only  partially  true.    Sunday  was,  as  I  have  already  stated, 
no  different  from  any  other  day  except  that  we  had  a  little 
thicker  soup  at  noon,  and  no  supper.     The  Soviet  holidays, 
of  which  we  had  three  important  ones,  the  anniversary  of 
the  November  and  March  Revolutions  and  the  birthday  of 
Karl  Marx,  were  the  same  as  Sundays  in  so  far  as  our  rations 
were  concerned,  but  the  day  before  every  prisoner  received 
a  peredacha  from  the  Political  Red  Cross.     On  the  seventh  of 
November,  the  day  of  the  Bolshevik  Revolution,  we  each  got 
half  a  pound  of  butter,  a  pound  of  sugar,  a  quarter  of  a  pound 
of  salt,  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  coffee  and  fifty  cigarettes. 
The  articles  were  distributed  by  the  prison  guards,  who  came 
in  with  big  trays  heaped  with  packages.     When  the  coffee 
was  being  given  out  I  asked  our  guard,  "What  kind  of  coffee 
are  you  giving  us — Sovietski?"     Soviet  coffee,  I  should  ex- 
plain, is  a  brew  like  nothing  else  in  the  world.     At  different 
times  I  was  told  that  it  consisted  of  roasted  bread  crumbs, 
powdered  acorns,  roasted  barley  and  cow  peas.     Sometimes 
the  better  qualities  were  mixed  with  a  little  chicory,  or  flavored 
with  something  that  resembled  vanilla.    Our  warder  evidently 
considered   we  were  all  counter-revolutionaries,    for  he   an- 
swered with  a  wink — "No,  Nikolaievski."     At  New  Year's, 
Christmas  and  Easter  we  received  just  about  the  same. 

The  last  two  holidays  with  their  home  memories  were  the 
hardest  of  all  to  face,  and  I  shall  never  forget  the  two  weeks 
just  before  Christmas.  Some  of  us,  including  myself,  were 
foreigners.  We  knew  that  there  was  no  hope  of  our  re- 
lease before  the  great  holiday,  but  there  were  several  Russian 

250 


PRISON  HOLIDAYS  251 

women,  detained  as  witnesses,  or  on  relatively  unimportant 
charges,  who  hoped  up  to  the  last  minute.  One  of  them  was 
a  woman  with  three  small  children.  That  she  was  in  prison 
owing  in  large  part  to  her  own  stupidity  did  not  make  her 
plight  any  the  less  pitiful.  She  had  some  time  before  her  ar- 
rest received  a  letter  by  underground  mail  from  her  brother 
in  Riga.  He  enclosed  a  sum  of  money,  and  wrote  at  length 
about  his  plans  for  the  future,  sending  messages  to  several  of 
his  friends  in  Moscow  as  to  how  to  get  out  of  the  country.  At 
the  close  of  the  letter  he  instructed  her  to  destroy  it  as  soon 
as  she  had  read  it.  Womanlike,  however,  she  wanted  to  keep 
it,  and  hid  it  under  the  mattress  on  her  bed.  Shortly  after- 
wards there  was  a  raid  in  the  apartment  house  where  she 
lived,  for  hidden  money  and  food  supplies,  and  the  letter  was 
found  quite  by  accident.  She  and  her  sister  were  immediately 
arrested  and  the  three  children  were  left  alone  in  the  apart- 
ment, dependent  on  the  care  of  neighbors,  with  Christmas 
coming  on. 

The  poor  woman,  who  was  really  utterly  ignorant  of  poli- 
tics, was  grilled  and  cross-examined  repeatedly  as  to  the  ac- 
quaintances referred  to  in  her  brother's  letter,  and  no  doubt 
they  were  all  arrested  as  well.  She  spent  most  of  her  time 
in  prison  weeping  or  laying  out  the  cards  to  see  whether  she 
would  be  freed  for  Christmas.  On  Christmas  Eve  the  first 
thing  in  the  morning  she  reached  for  the  pack  under  her  pil- 
low. The  first  card  was  gramddni  rddost — great  joy.  'T  know 
I'm  going  to  get  home  today,"  she  declared  triumphantly, 
but  the  morning  and  afternoon  passed  without  a  summons. 
Finally  at  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  when  she  had 
sobbed  herself  to  sleep  on  her  straw  pallet,  a  guard  appeared. 
"Dmitrova,"  he  called.  "Sohirdites  s  veschidmi"  (pack  your 
clothes).  In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it  we  had  waked  her 
up,  packed  her  things,  for  she  was  too  dazed  to  do  anything 
but  cross  herself,  and  say  "Thank  God,"  and  she  was  hustled 
off,  sobbing  but  radiant. 

All  of  us  followed  her  in  our  thoughts  to  the  little  room 
we  could  picture  to  ourselves,  with  its  small  wood  stove,  its 
jumble  of  trunks,  boxes,  pots  and  pans,  parlor,  dining  and 


252  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

bedroom  furniture,  its  pile  of  wood  in  the  corner,  the  sack 
of  potatoes  under  the  bed,  where  three  small  children  were 
huddled  together,  tired  out  with  waiting  for  Mdtushka  to 
come  home.  Perhaps  she  would  still  be  able  to  get  a  Christ- 
mas tree  at  the  last  moment.  We  wondered,  and  meanwhile 
we  finished  trimming  our  own  tree.  It  was  an  immense  stroke 
of  luck  that  we  had  a  tree  at  all,  and  we  owed  it  to  the  fact 
that  three  days  before  Christmas  we  had  been  taken  out  to  the 
public  baths  with  an  armed  convoy,  and  marched  for  some 
distance  through  the  snow-covered  streets.  They  were  selling 
trees  in  the  Trubnaya  Square  through  which  we  had  to  pass, 
and  we  managed  to  pick  up  a  number  of  branches  which  had 
broken  off  and  lay  scattered  on  the  snow.  When  we  got  back 
to  our  room  we  tied  them  together  and  stuck  them  in  a  bottle, 
which  we  covered  with  white  paper  that  had  been  wrapped 
around  a  package  received  by  one  of  the  prisoners. 

Then  we  set  about  making  decorations.  I  had  some,  silver 
paper  in  my  bag  that  had  been  wrapped  around  a  cake  of 
soap.  This  we  made  into  festoons  of  little  silver  balls,  string- 
ing them  together  on  the  thread  we  received  to  mend  the  prison 
linen.  Another  woman  had  a  piece  of  red  cardboard  that  had 
been  part  of  a  cigarette  carton,  and  I  had  a  red  label  from  a 
can  of  condensed  milk.  We  cut  these  pieces  of  paper  into 
red  stars,  which  we  attached  to  the  end  of  every  twig.  I 
complained  of  a  toothache,  and  received  some  raw  cotton  and 
iodine  to  put  on  my  tooth  from  the  prison  dispensary.  We 
used  this  to  powder  the  tree,  giving  the  effect  of  snow.  One 
of  the  women  contributed  a  little  gold  chain  she  wore  around 
her  neck  with  an  image  of  the  Mat  Boga,  the  Mother  of  God, 
and  the  Christmas  tree  was  done.  We  thought  it  was  very 
beautiful. 

A  clean  white  towel  was  spread  on  the  table,  and  then  we 
prepared  our  feast.  It  consisted  of  a  tin  of  American  canned 
beef  which  had  been  sent  me  by  the  Czecho-Slovak  Red  Cross, 
two  salt  herrings,  a  rice  pudding  that  had  been  sent  another  of 
the  prisoners,  prison  bread,  butter  and  sugar  sent  us  by  the 
PoHtical  Red  Cross  and  tea,  an  extra  ration  of  which  had 


PRISON  HOLIDAYS  253 

been  served  to  us  at  ten  o'clock.  We  hid  it  under  our  blankets 
and  pillows  to  keep  it  hot  till  midnight  when  we  planned  to 
have  our  supper.  The  guards  had  promised  to  give  us  light 
till  one  o'clock,  which  they  invariably  did  on  great  holidays, 
and  we  spent  the  early  part  of  the  evening  playing  games. 
Promptly  at  twelve  o'clock  we  all  stood  around  the  table.  We 
were  a  strange  cosmopolitan  company. 

First  there  was  Pani  Pavlovskaya,  a  Polish  woman,  who 
had  been  arrested  some  weeks  before  because  she  had  had  a 
telephone  conversation  with  a  strange  man  who  wanted  to  rent 
one  of  her  rooms.  The  Checka  had  been  listening  in,  as  it 
does  on  two  hundred  and  fifty  telephones  daily  in  Moscow,  and 
it  happened  that  the  gentleman  in  question  was  suspected  of 
being  a  counter-revolutionary.  Pani  Pavlovskaya  had  no 
babies  to  go  back  to,  and  her  husband  had  deserted  her  and 
left  the  country  in  the  first  days  of  the  Revolution.  But  she 
had  a  King  Charles  spaniel  and  a  canary  bird,  and  she  was  as 
much  worried  about  them  as  if  they  had  been  a  pair  of  small 
children. 

Next  was  Elizaveta  Edouardovna,  a  pretty  young  German 
girl  married  to  a  Russian.  Her  husband  was  in  another  prison. 
She  had  been  arrested  some  weeks  before,  and  up  to  that 
time  had  no  knowledge  of  the  charges  against  her.  Then 
there  was  Anna  Ivanovna,  a  Little  Russian,  prostitute  by  in- 
stinct, spy  by  profession,  with  the  temper  of  ten  devils;  the 
dramatic  talent  of  a  great  artist.  Anna  Ivanovna's  weakness 
was  that  she  loved  pretty  things  to  wear  and  good  things  to 
eat  and  drink.  She  had  sold  herself  for  a  pair  of  new  shoes 
at  the  age  of  fifteen,  had  abandoned  her  baby  for  a  man  who 
promised  her  a  green  silk  dress,  and  had  betrayed  a  group  of 
Esthonian  Communists  for  a  bottle  of  champagne.  I  had 
won  her  heart  by  giving  her  a  box  of  red  nail  salve  with  which 
she  rouged  her  cheeks.  She  was  generous  to  a  fault,  impul- 
sively affectionate,  and  if  she  had  lived  at  another  time  and  in 
a  different  environment  I  am  not  sure  that  she  would  have 
been  what  the  world  calls  an  abandoned  woman. 

Next  to  Anna  Ivanovna  stood  Maria  Casimirovna,  a  Lith- 
uanian peasant  woman,  one  of  the  refugees  who  had  been 


254  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

driven  Into  Central  Russia  at  the  beginning  of  the  German 
offensive,  and  thence  to  Kharkov,  where  she  was  arrested  for 
having,  like  the  good  Catholic  she  was,  carried  a  letter  from 
a  Polish  priest  to  a  compatriot  who  was  accused  of  espionage. 
Maria  could  neither  read  nor  write,  but  she  spent  hours  every 
day  poring  over  her  missal  which  she  knew  from  cover  to 
cover  by  heart,  or  telling  her  rosary.  She  seldom  talked  and 
never  complained,  but  she  just  grew  paler  and  thinner,  day  by 
day,  until,  when  she  was  finally  released  some  weeks  later,  she 
was  almost  too  weak  to  walk. 

Then  came  a  Lettish  Communist  named  Vera  Ivanovna,  a 
delicate  young  girl,  still  weakened  from  six  months  in  the 
Central  Prison  at  Riga.  She  had  come  to  Moscow,  had  en- 
tered the  service  of  the  Checka,  and  had  been  denounced  as 
an  agent  provocateur.  Although  her  position  was  very  seri- 
ous, for  such  charges  against  Communists,  if  not  disproved  to 
the  entire  satisfaction  of  the  Checka  are  punishable  with 
death,  she  was  not  afraid;  but  she  was  heartbroken  to  think 
that  she  had  been  misjudged  by  her  own  comrades. 

The  remaining  members  of  our  party  were  Olga  Petrovna, 
a  Russian  woman,  the  sister  of  an  old  general  who  had  been 
arrested  for  failure  to  declare  the  possession  of  a  lot  of  family 
silver,  which  she  was  accused  of  secreting  for  counter-revo- 
lutionary funds,  and  myself. 

Before  beginning  our  supper  Pani  Pavlovskaya,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  beautiful  Polish  custom,  broke  into  seven  pieces 
our  substitute  for  the  consecrated  Christmas  wafer,  an  Ameri- 
can soda  cracker,  the  last  of  a  box  I  had  in  my  possession  when 
I  was  arrested,  giving  one  to  each  of  us  with  a  kiss,  and  wish- 
ing us  a  happy  Christmas.  We  in  turn  divided  our  bits  with 
our  particular  friends,  wishing  them  the  same.  Then  we  sat 
down  to  our  simple  Christmas  repast.  During  supper  each  of 
us  told  where  and  how  she  had  spent  the  preceding  Christmas. 
I  had  spent  mine  in  Warsaw  with  the  Polish  American  girls 
known  as  the  Gray  Sisters,  who  were  doing  social  service  work 
under  the  auspices  of  the  Young  Women's  Christian  Associa- 
tion, and  I  had  had  my  Christmas  dinner  at  the  American  Le- 
gation with  a  crowd  of  fellow  Americans. 


PRISON  HOLIDAYS  255 

After  supper,  one  after  another  we  sang  our  own  Christ- 
mas Carols,  and  the  story  of  the  Holy  Night  was  retold  in 
seven  languages.  I  sang  Phillips  Brooks'  hymn,  "Oh,  Little 
Town  of  Bethlehem,"  not  only  because  it  was  one  of  the  love- 
liest carols  I  know,  but  because  it  was  written  by  an  American. 

Finally  Elizaveta  Edouardovna,  our  German  comrade,  made 
a  short  speech  which  I  don't  think  any  of  us  who  were  there 
will  ever  forget.  She  said  that  although  we  were  celebrating 
Christmas  in  prison,  far  away  from  all  that  had  made  previ- 
ous Christmases  dear  to  us,  she  did  not  believe  that  in  the  fu- 
ture we  would  look  back  on  this  Christmas  as  an  altogether 
unhappy  one.  Prison  had  taught  us  one  of  the  great  Christmas 
messages — the  message  of  good  will  towards  men.  Thrown 
together  by  fate  under  the  worst  possible  conditions  of  mental 
anxiety  and  physical  discomfort,  we  had  learned  to  live  together 
in  peace  and  comradeship,  to  lay  the  foundation  for  a  real  in- 
ternational based  on  love  and  forbearance.  She  hoped  from 
her  heart  that  each  of  us  would  spend  the  next  Christmas  in 
our  own  homes,  but  she  asked  that  wherever  we  were,  we 
would  stop  for  a  minute  on  Christmas  Eve  and  send  a  silent 
message  of  good  cheer  to  every  member  of  the  present  com- 
pany. 

No  one  spoke  for  a  moment — then  the  silence  was  broken 
by  Anna  Ivanovna  who  burst  into  a  fit  of  wild,  uncontrollable 
sobbing.  Vera  Ivanovna  flung  herself  on  her  bed  face  down, 
saying  over  and  over  again,  "Oh,  Mother,  Mother."  The 
rest  began  to  undress,  talking  about  trivial  matters  to  carry 
on,  and  I  busied  myself  in  my  corner  with  seven  mysterious 
packages  containing  seven  tiny  pieces  of  chocolate,  which  I 
had  saved  for  the  occasion,  for  I  had  told  all  my  companions 
about  our  American  Christmas,  and  I  wanted  to  illustrate  it 
by  playing  Santa  Claus.  When  they  had  gone  to  sleep  I  slipped 
one  under  each  of  the  wooden  headrests  that  were  supposed  to 
serve  as  pillows.  After  all,  I  thought,  it  is  possible,  if  you 
only  try  hard  enough,  to  have  a  real  Christmas  anywhere. 

On  New  Year's  Eve,  according  to  the  Russian  custom,  we 
all  played  fortune-telling  games,  very  much  as  people  do  in 
America  on  Hallowe'en.     First  we  tried  our  luck  with  the 


256  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

cards,  then,  in  order  to  find  out  who  was  to  be  our  future  hus- 
band we  drew  slips  from  a  pile  on  which  were  written  a  num- 
ber of  men's  Christian  names.  I  told  of  the  American  cus- 
tom of  walking  backwards  down  the  cellar  stairs  at  midnight 
with  a  lighted  candle  in  one  hand  and  a  mirror  in  the  other. 
As  we  had  none  of  the  necessary  paraphernalia,  we  rigged  up 
a  substitute  apparatus.  Our  only  chair  was  put  on  one  of  the 
beds.  With  many  smothered  giggles  and  suppressed  screams, 
we  mounted  in  turn  on  the  chair,  holding  in  one  hand  a  lighted 
match,  in  the  other  our  only  mirror,  the  tiny  one  in  the  lid  of 
my  pocket  powder  box,  and  gingerly  descended  the  three  steps 
from  the  chair  to  the  bed  and  thence  to  the  floor.  One  of  the 
girls  solemnly  averred  that  she  saw  the  face  of  a  dark  man 
in  the  mirror. 

Finally  we  played  another  rather  gruesome  game.  On  a 
number  of  tiny  slips  of  paper  were  written  the  possibilities  for 
the  future  that  were  facing  us  at  the  time — a  meeting,  a  jour- 
ney, an  enemy,  cross-examination,  liberty,  prison,  death.  These 
slips  were  placed  on  a  table  underneath  a  towel,  and  there  were 
three  drawings.  I  drew  prison  twice,  and  the  last  time  a  jour- 
ney. This  meant  that  I  would  not  be  released  for  some  time, 
but  that  I  would  eventually  get  home.  The  death  slip  was 
drawn  once  by  an  eighteen-year  old  girl  who  was  arrested  as 
a  witness  and  knew  perfectly  well  that  she  was  in  no  danger, 
so  we  could  afford  to  make  light  of  it. 

Our  Easter  celebration  was  the  most  elaborate  of  all,  for 
the  Russians  make  more  of  Easter  than  of  any  other  holiday. 
The  spiritual  significance  of  the  Resurrection  appeals  strongly 
to  the  innate  mysticism  of  the  Russian  temperament,  and  the 
more  material  side,  largely  manifested  by  an  inordinate  love 
for  the  fleshpots,  finds  expression  in  the  great  feasts  that  are 
spread  in  all  Russian  homes  to  celebrate  the  festival  which 
marks  the  end  of  the  long,  cold  winters,  with  their  intermin- 
able nights.  It  happened  at  that  time  that  all  of  my  compan- 
ions, except  a  Polish  girl  arrested  for  espionage,  were  Rus- 
sians. One  was  a  Communist  and  one  a  Jewess,  and  the  rest 
Orthodox.  There  were  nine  of  us  in  all.  Most  of  them  had 
families  in  Moscow  and  had  received  wonderful  Easter  pere- 


PRISON  HOLIDAYS  257 

dachas.  Our  Easter  table  was  really  so  beautiful  that  the 
guards  themselves  stared  open-mouthed  at  it  every  time  they 
opened  the  door.  On  Easter  eve  we  fasted  according  to  cus- 
tom, and  supper  was  served  at  midnight. 

The  table  was  covered  with  a  beautiful  drawn  work  linen 
cloth  that  had  been  sent  us  by  a  relative  of  one  of  the  pris- 
oners. In  the  center  was  a  nosegay  of  flowering  shrubs  in  a 
pottery  bowl.  It  was  surrounded  by  a  ring  of  gaily  colored 
Easter  eggs  and  flanked  by  the  traditional  Easter  dishes, 
paska,  a  concoction  of  sweetened  cream  cheese,  moulded  into 
a  pyramid,  on  each  side  of  which  was  a  cross  in  high  relief, 
ham,  and  the  koidich,  an  enormous  loaf  of  sweetened  bread 
with  raisins,  prepared  according  to  a  special  recipe.  In  addi- 
tion we  had  vinagrette,  pickled  herrings,  and  small  cakes, 
known  in  Russia  as  perioshni. 

On  the  stroke  of  twelve  we  all  stood  round  the  table.  Our 
stdrosta  (the  room  chairman)  turned  to  the  woman  on  her 
right,  and  kissed  her  on  both  cheeks.  "Christ  is  risen,"  she 
said  simply.  "Christ  is  risen,  indeed,"  was  the  answer,  and 
this  was  done  by  each  woman  in  turn  all  around  the  table. 
Then,  as  we  ate  our  supper,  through  the  open  window  we  could 
hear  the  bells  of  the  Moscow  churches  in  the  distance.  In  all 
the  churches  there  is  a  midnight  service  beginning  with  the 
reading  of  excerpts  from  the  lives  of  the  twelve  apostles. 
After  the  first  the  bell  tolls  once,  after  the  second  twice,  and 
so  on  until  twelve  is  reached,  when  all  the  bells  in  Moscow  to- 
gether burst  out  into  a  mad  carillon. 

I  know  of  nothing  more  beautiful  than  the  Moscow  church 
bells;  there  are  literally  thousands  of  them.  Tradition  imputes 
forty  times  forty  churches  to  Moscow.  As  a  matter  of  fact 
the  guide  books  state  that  there  are  four  hundred  and  thirty- 
five,  not  counting  the  private  chapels,  and  each  has  its  chime  of 
bells.  Most  of  them  are  not  constructed  on  the  Western  Euro- 
pean plan.  Instead  of  being  rung  by  means  of  a  pendulum 
they  are  struck  by  little  hammers  and  the  sound  is  unusual, 
but  often  mellow  and  very  lovely. 

Our  lights  were  put  out  at  one  o'clock,  but  it  was  at  least 
five  in  the  morning  before  the  last  chimes  died  away.     Ac- 


258  M*AROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

cording  to  custom  our  table  remained  spread  for  three  days, 
and  everybody  who  came  into  the  room,  including  the  guards 
and  the  man  who  gave  out  the  prison  linen,  was  invited  to 
share  our  Easter  feast. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
THE  MILLS  OF  THE  GODS 

The  physical  isolation  of  prisoners  in  the  "Liibianka  2"  is 
about  as  complete  as  possible,  but  nevertheless  we  were  any- 
thing but  isolated  intellectually  from  the  outside  world,  and 
from  those  confined  in  other  prisons.  Though  we  were  with- 
out newspapers  we  were  well  informed  of  everything  that  was 
going  on  in  Russia.  We  knew  of  all  the  new  decrees,  all  the 
negotiations  with  foreign  governments,  local  and  general  eco- 
nomic conditions,  and  our  constantly  changing  population  was 
an  accurate  reflection  of  the  political  situation. 

During  the  first  weeks  of  my  imprisonment  the  majority 
of  the  political  prisoners  were  persons  arrested  in  connection 
with  an  alleged  counter-revolutionary  plot  in  the  war  office. 
All  the  employees  of  one  department,  two  hundred  in  num- 
ber, had  been  arrested  together  with  the  department  head. 
A  nimiber  of  naval  officers  and  their  wives  were  also  arrested 
for  the  same  reason.  This  was  in  the  days  when  peace  nego- 
tiations with  the  Poles  were  dragging  on  at  Riga,  and  there 
was  a  good  deal  of  disaffection  in  the  army.  Most  of  those 
arrested  were  held  as  witnesses.  There  seems  to  be  no  ar- 
rangement for  subpoenaing  witnesses  in  Russia.  They  are 
simply  locked  up  until  they  have  given  the  necessary  testimony, 
or  if  the  case  is  a  very  important  one,  until  it  is  brought  to 
trial,  the  principle  being  that  it  is  better  to  isolate  them. 

After  this  excitement  had  died  down  we  had  persons 
arrested  for  illegal  intercourse  with  foreign  missions.  All 
governments  which  had  signed  diplomatic  or  commercial 
treaties  with  Russia  sent  delegations  to  Moscow,  and  naturally 
at  first  there  was  much  intercourse  between  them  and  private 
citizens.  Many  persons  who  had  friends  or  relatives  abroad 
received  letters  or  packages  from  them  through  foreign  mis- 

259 


260  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

sions;  then,  the  members  of  the  missions  were  usually  very 
well  housed  and  entertained  delightfully,  and  besides  there  was 
always  the  chance  for  the  less  scrupulous  to  send  valuables  out 
of  the  country  or  to  do  a  little  profitable  private  business. 

The  Soviet  Government,  however,  regards  all  official  dele- 
gations from  bourgeois  governments  as  espionage  organiza- 
tions, so  the  Central  Executive  Committee  issued  a  decree 
forbidding  Russian  citizens  any  intercourse  with  foreign  mis- 
sions except  through  the  intermediary  of  the  Foreign  Office. 
Few  people  were  aware  of  this  decree,  though  it  was  published 
in  the  newspapers,  for  papers  are  not  on  sale;  the  only  way 
for  the  average  citizen  to  get  the  news  is  to  read  the  papers 
posted  in  the  streets  and  public  places,  and  most  people  have  no 
time  for  this  in  the  scramble  for  food  and  the  ordinary  ne- 
cessities of  life.  Consequently  many  unsuspecting  persons  were 
arrested.  Among  the  cases  of  which  I  had  personal  knowl- 
edge from  being  thrown  with  the  actual  culprits  were  the  fol- 
lowing : 

A  well-known  comic  opera  singer  signed  a  contract  to  ap- 
pear at  a  concert  at  the  Esthonian  Mission.  She  was  unable  to 
fill  the  engagement  owing  to  a  cold,  but  nevertheless  she  was 
arrested  and  spent  three  weeks  in  our  room.  Although  she  was 
never  in  the  slightest  danger  she  was  very  temperamental  and 
took  her  arrest  most  tragically.  After  every  do  pros  she 
would  walk  the  floor  for  some  time  with  a  handkerchief  around 
her  head  declaring  that  she  had  never  believed  that  a  woman 
could  be  made  to  suffer  so;  then  she  would  lapse  into  violent 
hysterics  and  consume  huge  doses  of  valerian,  after  which 
she  revived  and  entertained  us  all  with  clever  impersonations 
of  celebrated  actors  and  accounts  of  her  experiences  and  love 
affairs  in  Russia  and  other  parts  of  Europe.  She  was  con- 
vinced that  imprisonment  was  making  her  hair  gray,  so  she 
feigned  a  sore  throat  and  got  peroxide  from  the  dispensary 
which  she  dabbed  on  her  locks  four  or  five  times  a  day. 
Finally  she  was  released  through  the  efforts  of  her  latest  flame, 
a  well-known  Communist,  who  sent  her  wonderful  peredachas 
nearly  every  day,  though  other  prisoners  were  permitted  to 


THE  MILLS  OF  THE  GODS  261 

receive  them  only  once  a  week,  and  we  missed  her  very  much 
when  she  left  us. 

A  young  Esthonian  woman  married  to  a  Frenchman  who 
had  become  a  Russian  citizen,  and  who  was  expecting  her  first 
baby  in  three  months,  was  arrested  for  having  received  a  case 
of  condensed  milk  from  her  sister  in  Reval  and  she  spent  a 
month  in  prison. 

One  night  a  very  pretty  Lettish  girl,  just  married  to  a 
Russian,  was  brought  into  our  room.  For  three  weeks  she 
was  in  complete  ignorance  as  to  why  she  had  been  arrested. 
At  the  first  dopros  it  transpired  that  she  was  accused  of  espion- 
age because  she  had  had  the  members  of  the  Lettish  Mission 
to  tea  in  her  apartment.  She  was  released  after  seven  weeks. 
Still  other  cases  were  those  of  a  young  girl  employed  in  the 
Foreign  Office  who  had  accepted  a  pair  of  shoes  from  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Persian  Mission,  and  the  wife  of  the  president  of 
the  Political  Red  Cross,  who  was  arrested  for  having  had  a 
telephone  conversation  about  the  loan  of  an  automobile  to 
take  food  packages  to  the  Butierki,  with  one  of  the  members 
of  the  Esthonian  Mission,  and  detained  for  forty-eight  hours. 

An  old  lady  in  destitute  circumstances,  a  Czecho-Slovak  by 
birth,  who  had  taken  Russian  citizenship  at  the  beginning  of 
the  Great  War,  but  who  was  already  registered  for  the  re- 
sumption of  her  own  nationality,  was  accused  of  espionage 
and  kept  in  the  Checka  for  nearly  two  months  because  she  had 
received  food  packages  from  the  Czech  Mission,  Her  alleged 
offense  was  rendered  more  grave  by  the  fact  that  she  was 
employed  as  a  translator  in  the  censorship  department  of  the 
Moscow  general  post-office. 

The  Kronstadt  rebellion  sent  us  its  quota  of  witnesses  from 
Petrograd,  the  defeat  of  Wrangel  furnished  us  with  several 
"White"  prisoners ;  we  had  the  aftermath  of  the  war  with  Po- 
land in  a  number  of  unfinished  espionage  cases,  and  of  the 
peace  with  Latvia  in  the  arrest  of  many  Communists  who  had 
been  deported  from  Latvia  under  the  provisions  of  the  treaty. 

One  of  the  Polish  espionage  cases  was  particularly  inter- 
esting and  I  happened  to  hear  the  whole  story.  A  party  of 
five  persons  engaged  in  commercial  espionage  was  arrested 


262  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

at  Kiev  in  July,  1920.  There  were  three  men  and  two  women. 
One  of  the  men,  becoming  frightened,  turned  informer  and 
was  released,  the  rest  being  brought  to  Moscow.  Both  of  the 
women  were  in  my  room  in  the  autumn.  One  was  condemned 
to  an  internment  camp  until  the  conclusion  of  peace  with  Po- 
land, as  was  one  of  her  male  companions ;  another  became  con- 
verted to  Communism  and  entered  the  service  of  the  Polish 
section  of  the  Checka.  The  remaining  member  of  the  party, 
an  intensely  nervous  man,  was  placed  in  solitary  confinem.ent 
because  he  had  refused  to  give  the  required  information,  and 
hung  himself  in  his  cell. 

The  Lettish  Communists  were  accused  of  being  agents 
provocateurs  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  most  of  them  had  spent 
several  months  in  the  Central  Prison  at  Riga,  where  they  were 
treated  far  worse  than  in  Russia,  many  of  them  being  beaten. 
I  actually  saw  the  scars  on  the  arms,  legs  and  breasts  of 
several  of  them.  One  told  me  that  they  would  have  starved 
to  death  in  the  Riga  prison  had  it  not  been  for  the  nourishing 
supper  given  them  daily  by  the  American  Red  Cross.  It  was 
very  pathetic  to  see  these  women,  all  of  whom  had  suffered 
much  and  most  of  whom  I  believe  were  sincere  and  devoted 
Communists,  held  in  prison  in  the  country  where  they  had 
hoped  to  find  an  asylum.  Among  them  was  a  trusted  courier 
of  the  bureau  of  the  Third  International,  and  she  was  held  for 
four  months  because  she  refused  to  give  testimony  against 
her  sister,  who  was  accused  of  espionage. 

In  the  late  winter  unsettled  conditions  in  the  Donski 
Oblast  sent  us  several  Cossack  women  prisoners,  the  most  in- 
teresting among  whom  was  a  young  girl  recently  married  to 
the  Commander  of  the  Second  Army.  She  accompanied  him 
on  army  business  to  Moscow,  where  he  was  arrested  on  the 
charge  of  having  encouraged  peasant  revolts  by  refusing  to 
carry  out  what  he  thought  were  unreasonable  requisitions 
among  the  Don  peasants,  and  she  was  held  as  a  witness.  Be- 
lieving in  his  absolute  sincerity  and  devotion  to  the  Soviet 
Government,  she  waived  her  right  to  refuse  to  testify  as  his 
wife,  and  was  cross-examined  several  times,  once  from  mid- 
night until  nearly   four  in  the  morning.      She  came  back 


THE  MILLS  OF  THE  GODS  263 

utterly  exhausted  and  terrified  for  fear  her  testimony  would 
be  misinterpreted.  I  don't  know  if  this  was  the  case  or  not, 
but  I  heard  late  in  the  spring,  long  after  she  had  left  us,  that 
she  was  in  the  Butierki  Hospital  expecting  the  birth  of  a  baby, 
and  mercifully  kept  from  the  knowledge  that  her  husband  had 
been  shot. 

Our  prison  diet  was  about  the  same  all  winter.  In  the 
morning,  anywhere  from  eight  to  ten-thirty,  we  received  tea, 
made  of  apple  parings  and  dried  carrots,  or  Soviet  coffee.  I 
was  never  able  to  find  out  exactly  what  the  latter  was  made  of. 
We  were  usually  allowed  to  take  as  much  as  we  pleased.  The 
tea  was  followed  by  our  daily  ration  of  from  five  and  a  half 
to  eight  and  a  half  ounces  of  black  bread,  according  to  the  sup- 
ply on  hand.  Sometimes  it  was  eatable,  at  others  absolutely 
impossible  and  always  without  salt.  The  best  was  made  of  a 
combination  of  dark  barley,  oats  and  bran.  Frequently  it 
was  adulterated  with  a  substance  that  gave  it  the  consistency 
of  clay,  the  color  of  dirty  putty.  Every  other  day  we  received 
two  and  a  half  teaspoons  of  sugar,  or  when  there  was  no  sugar 
its  equivalent  in  honey  or  bonbons.  Our  dinner,  which  was 
served  at  one  o'clock,  consisted  usually  of  salt  herring  soup, 
chiefly  eyes,  tails  and  back  bones,  thickened  with  a  little  cereal 
or  containing  unpared,  half  boiled  potatoes.  In  the  winter 
they  were  invariably  frozen  and  almost  black.  Sometimes 
we  had,  instead,  horse  soup  with  salted  cabbage.  The  cabbage 
was  frequently  almost  uneatable,  as  most  of  the  half  rotten 
cabbages  are  salted  to  preserve  them.  Once  in  a  while  we  had 
a  treat — soup  with  salt  pork  or  mutton,  containing  slices  of 
salt  cucumber.  The  second  dish  was  kasha,  or  boiled  cab- 
bage. The  kasha  was  always  edible  and  usually  sufficient, 
but  it  required  considerable  patience  to  eat  the  variety  made 
of  whole  wheat  for  it  was  full  of  hulls.  I  used  to  pick  them 
out  and  make  a  sort  of  chevmtx  dc  frise  with  which  I  decorated 
the  edge  of  my  bowl.  For  supper  we  had  the  same  soup  as 
that  served  at  dinner,  followed  by  tea. 

Many  of  the  prisoners  received  peredachas,  or  food  pack- 
ages, from  their  friends  and  relatives,  and  sometimes  we  lived 
high  when  we  happened  to  have  a  number  of  rich  bourgeois 


264  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

companions.  Knowing  as  I  did  the  prices  of  food  on  the 
open  market,  I  used  to  wonder  at  the  quantities  of  white  bread, 
cake,  cheese,  sausage  and  other  kixuries  received  by  many  of 
the  prisoners.  Of  course  in  many  cases  it  meant  that  the  fam- 
ilies of  the  prisoners  were  selling  their  last  possessions,  but  in 
others  it  was  evidence  of  the  enormous  amount  of  hidden 
wealth  that  still  exists  in  Russia. 

For  the  first  three  weeks  I  received  no  food  packages,  and 
then  the  first  pcredachas  came  from  the  Czecho-Slovak  Red 
Cross.  I  shall  never  forget  my  joy  when  I  heard  my  name 
called  for  the  first  time,  and  saw  the  signature  of  Mr.  Skala, 
the  head  of  the  Czecho-Slovak  Mission,  on  the  list  which  ac- 
companied the  package.  He  and  his  wife  had  been  good 
friends  of  mine,  we  had  lived  in  the  same  house,  and  I  felt 
that  the  small  slip  of  paper  was  the  one  link  which  connected 
me  with  the  outside  world.  The  peredachas  from  the  Czechs 
were  often  meagre,  but  each  week  there  was  something, 
with  the  exception  of  intervals  of  several  weeks  at  Christmas 
and  Easter,  and  three  weeks  after  my  transfer  to  the  Novenski 
prison,  when  they  evidently  lost  sight  of  me.  They  also  sent 
me  shoes,  needles  and  thread,  soap,  and  other  necessities.  Be- 
sides, as  time  went  on,  I  began  to  receive  occasional  peredachas 
from  my  Russian  friends  who  were  released  from  prison. 
Thanks  to  one  of  them  after  six  months  I  had  sheets  and  a 
pillow  case,  a  wrapper  and  many  other  small  comforts. 

As  the  winter  wore  on  it  became  evident  that  my  case  was 
being  held  in  abeyance  to  see  what  developments  would  take 
place  in  the  international  situation.  I  was  seldom  called  to  a 
dopros.  Once,  in  January,  I  was  informed  by  Moghilevski 
that  "Mr.  Vanderlip,  acting  as  the  official  representative  of 
President-elect  Harding,  had  practically  concluded  negotia- 
tions for  large  mining  concessions  and  the  lease  of  a  naval 
coaling  station  on  the  island  of  Sakhalin,  and  that  in  view 
of  this  fact  all  the  American  prisoners  would  probably  be  re- 
leased in  a  few  weeks."  This  was  the  last  time  I  saw  Mog- 
hilevski until  the  day  I  left  Russia,  and  there  was  no  more 
talk  of  freedom  until  I  was  urged  in  the  spring  to  write  to  the 
State  Department  practically  transmitting  an  unofficial  pro- 


THE  MILLS  OF  THE  GODS  265 

posal  from  the  Soviet  Government  for  my  release,  conditional 
upon  the  release  of  Communists  then  in  prison  in  the  United 
States,  or  the  opening  of  negotiations  for  the  resumption  of 
trade  relations  with  Russia.    This  I  always  refused  to  do. 

While  I  was  in  prison  I  received  three  letters  from  rela- 
tives in  the  United  States,  and  was  allowed  several  times  to 
write  home.  On  arriving  in  this  country  I  learned  that  none 
of  these  letters  had  been  received. 

I  had  several  visits  from  employees  of  the  Foreign  Office 
who  came  to  inquire  after  my  health.  One  was  from  Santeri 
Nuorteva,  who  was  for  some  time  chief  of  the  English  and 
American  department  of  the  Foreign  Office.  He  was  later 
arrested  and  the  rumors  as  to  the  reasons  for  his  arrest  were 
various.  One  had  it  that  he  joined  the  noble  army  of  specu- 
lators, another  that  he  was  the  secret  agent  of  a  foreign  gov- 
ernment. 

Following  Mr.  Nuorteva's  visit  I  had  a  rather  amusing 
experience.  When  he  asked  me  if  I  wanted  anything,  I  told 
him,  no,  nothing  particularly,  except  a  bath,  as  I  had  not  had 
one  for  four  months.  That  night  at  half -past  two  a  guard 
suddenly  opened  the  door,  turned  on  the  light  and  demanded 
"Garrison!" 

"Here,"  I  answered  sleepily,  wondering  vaguely  at  the 
same  time  whether  I  was  to  be  taken  out  and  shot,  as  prisoners 
condemned  to  execution  are  usually  removed  at  night. 

"To  the  bath,"  he  announced  solemnly. 

I  was  taken  upstairs  to  a  very  clean  bathroom  with  plenty 
of  hot  water,  supplied  from  the  tank  attached  to  a  huge  porce- 
lain stove  in  the  corner,  a  nice  porcelain  tub,  clean  towels  and 
a  piece  of  soap.  Needless  to  say  I  took  advantage  of  the  op- 
portunity, and  in  addition  to  bathing  did  a  week's  washing. 
This  bathroom  was  ordinarily  used  for  prisoners  who  were 
brought  in  from  the  provinces  covered  with  vermin  or  afflicted 
with  some  infectious  disease,  which  rendered  them  dangerous 
to  their  fellow  prisoners.  It  was  no  time  to  be  particular,  how- 
ever, and  I  never  bothered  as  to  whether  or  not  there  were 
any  germs  left  in  the  tub. 

In  the  early  spring  the  government  became  particularly 


266  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

active  against  the  members  of  other  Socialist  parties,  and  then 
began  what  was  the  most  interesting  part  of  my  term  in  prison, 
for  I  had  as  companions  a  succession  of  party  members.  Our 
room  became  a  real  forum  for  the  discussion  of  all  questions 
of  the  day  and  even  of  the  past.  There  were  some  old  revolu- 
tionaries, among  them  a  Maximalist  who  remembered  the  ac- 
tivities of  the  Nihilists  and  the  assassination  of  Alexander  II, 
and  who  had  played  an  important  role  in  the  revolution  of 
1905.  While  opposed  to  Marxism  on  general  principles,  she 
had  taken  no  part  in  activities  against  the  Soviet  Government, 
and  indeed  had  helped  to  keep  the  underground  Commimist 
organization  alive  in  the  Crimea  under  Denikin  and  Wrangel. 
She  was  a  clearheaded,  unemotional  person,  and  the  circumstan- 
tial stories  she  told  me  of  persecutions  under  the  White  Con- 
trazi'yetka  were  as  bad  as  any  I  have  ever  read  in  the  North- 
cliffe  papers,  of  the  horrors  of  the  Bolshevik  regime.  She 
had  been  engaged  in  educational  work  during  the  past  year, 
and  was  arrested  because,  on  coming  to  Moscow  on  a  Kom- 
mandirovka,  that  is  to  say,  official  business,  connected  with  her 
department,  she  had  happened  to  share  a  room  with  a  Social 
Revolutionary  against  whom  there  were  conspiracy  charges. 
Although  old  and  in  bad  health,  she  was  kept  in  the  Checka 
from  the  middle  of  February  to  the  middle  of  March,  then 
being  transferred  to  the  Novenski  prison  from  which  she  was 
released  shortly  before  my  arrival  there  in  June. 

Another,  a  Left  Social  Revolutionary,  had  also  been  one 
of  the  leading  spirits  of  1905,  had  spent  much  time  in  prison 
under  Nikolai  and  was  an  old  friend  of  Lenin.  She  escaped 
with  him  via  Finland,  and  she  described  to  me  their  journey 
to  Helsingfors — how  they  hid  in  closed  summer  dachas,  bunga- 
lows, near  the  Finnish  coast,  doing  all  their  cooking  at  night 
so  the  smoke  would  not  be  seen;  how  they  sneaked  into  Hel- 
singfors by  twos  and  threes,  obtained  false  passports  and  were 
smuggled  into  steamers  bound  for  England  or  Sweden.  After 
that  she  spent  many  years  in  exile  in  Switzerland.  When 
arrested,  she  claimed  that  she  was  not  an  active  party  worker ; 
nevertheless  following  the  obstructionist  policy  of  the  Left 
Social  Revolutionaries,  she  refused  to  be  photographed  and 


THE  MILLS  OF  THE  GODS  267 

was  supremely  indifferent  to  prison  discipline,  talking  in  a  loud 
voice,  though  talking  in  undertones  was  a  rigidly  enforced  rule 
of  the  prison,  summoning  the  guards  and  demanding  whatever 
she  wanted.  Failing  to  persuade  her  to  be  photographed,  the 
guards  resorted  to  stratagem.  She  was  summoned  to  a  fake 
dopros,  but  when  she  found  out  what  was  up  she  sat  down 
on  the  stairs,  refused  to  move,  and  dared  her  escort  to  violence. 
Then  she  demanded  immediate  release,  or  transfer  to  the 
Socialist  section  of  the  Butierki  prison,  and  announced  that 
she  would  begin  a  hunger  strike  within  twenty-four  hours. 
Receiving  no  answer,  she  struck,  and  starved  for  five  days, 
after  which  she  was  taken  to  the  Butierki. 

The  same  thing  happened  in  the  case  of  another  Left  So- 
cial Revolutionary,  a  young,  handsome  and  exceedingly  bril- 
liant woman  from  Kharkov.  She  had  been  condemned  to  a 
term  of  imprisonment  in  the  Butierki,  but  as  her  health  broke 
down,  she  was  transferred  to  a  prison  sanatorium  from  which 
she  escaped,  beating  her  way  back  to  Kharkov  without  money, 
papers  or  documents.  The  authorities  were  on  her  trail,  how- 
ever, and  she  was  arrested  almost  immediately  and  brought 
back  to  Moscow,  absolutely  without  baggage  and  still  wearing 
the  clothes  in  which  she  had  made  her  escape  some  two  weeks 
before.  Naturally  she  was  very  dirty  and  covered  with  ver- 
min, but  she  refused  to  bathe,  comb  her  hair  or  change  her 
underclothes  or  eat  any  food  until  she  was  returned  to  the 
Butierki  prison. 

"I  am  filthy,"  she  said  cheerfully.  "I  shall  probably  in- 
fest you  all  with  vermin." 

In  spite  of  this  fact,  which  was  undoubtedly  true,  I  found 
her  a  delightful  companion,  and  I  was  sorry  on  my  own  ac- 
count when  she  was  transferred  to  the  Butierki  three  days 
later,  though  thankful  for  her  sake. 

At  this  time  obstruction  among  the  Social  Revolutionaries 
in  the  Checka  became  general,  there  was  a  feeling  of  tension 
in  the  air,  mysterious  noises  were  heard  from  various  parts 
of  the  building,  yells,  howls,  and  the  sound  of  breaking  glass. 
One  man,  in  solitary  confinement  in  our  corridor,  who  had 
been  kept  for  six  weeks  without  a  dopros,  spent  a  whole 


268  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

morning  kicking  on  his  door.  For  this  he  was  confined  in  the 
cellar  podval  for  several  days.  (The  podval  is  used  for 
the  punishment  of  unruly  prisoners.  It  is  cold,  damp,  dark, 
infested  with  rats  and  vermin.)  On  being  returned  to  his  cell 
he  smashed  the  window  and  the  transom  and  made  kindling 
wood  of  his  bed. 

Another  prisoner,  on  being  summoned  to  a  dopros.  sent 
word  that  he  had  nothing  to  say  to  the  sledovatl,  and  therefore 
did  not  care  to  go,  but  if  the  sledovatl  had  anything  to  say  to 
him  he  would  be  glad  to  have  him  call. 

Then  the  Anarchists,  a  number  of  whom  were  arrested  at 
about  that  time,  began  to  practice  obstruction.  Twelve  of 
them  went  on  a  hunger  strike  simultaneously,  one,  a  very 
pretty  girl  about  eighteen  yeaVs  old,  being  in  my  room.  I 
later  met  her  in  the  Novenski  prison,  from  which  she  was 
released  in  July,  as  she  had  tuberculosis.  The  Anarchists 
caused  still  more  excitement,  armed  guards  were  posted  along 
the  corridor  and  we  had  the  feeling  that  a  storm  was  going 
to  break.  The  situation  was  finally  relieved,  however,  by  yield- 
ing to  the  demands  of  the  obstructionists,  and  Left  Social  Rev- 
olutionaries and  Anarchists  were  transferred  to  other  and  bet- 
ter prisons. 

All  movements  of  this  kind  were  concerted  and  simulta- 
neous. They  were  even  supported  by  similar  action  in  other 
prisons,  thanks  to  the  underground  railway  which  exists  among 
all  political  prisoners.  The  prisoners  in  my  room  were  in 
constant  communication  with  others  in  and  out  of  prison. 
One  means  of  communication  known  to  the  authorities,  but 
which  they  were  unable  to  control,  and  in  some  cases  tolerated 
with  a  view  of  trapping  the  unwary^,  was  by  means  of  writing 
on  the  walls  of  the  bathroom.  The  Socialists  had  their  ciphers, 
which  were  unreadable,  but  others  wrote  messages  which  were 
sometimes  interpreted  with  disastrous  results.  Then  there  was 
prison  telegraphy  by  means  of  tapping  on  steam  pipes  or  walls. 
There  were  numerous  pipes  running  through  our  room  and 
sometimes  we  heard  three  or  four  furtive  telegraph  messages 
going  on  at  once. 

Those  of  us  who  were  not  politically  minded  used  to  have 


THE  MILLS  OF  THE  GODS  269 

very  entertaining  conversations  with  the  men  in  the  next  room, 
in  which,  by  the  way.  Captain  Kilpatrick  of  the  American  Red 
Cross  was  confined  for  several  weeks,  unfortunately  before 
my  arrival.  This  was  the  way  it  was  done.  There  was  a 
steam  pipe  which  ran  along  the  narrow  end  of  our  room  close 
to  the  floor  and  passed  into  the  next.  We  found  that  by 
lying  flat  on  the  floor  and  putting  our  lips  to  the  pipe  the 
sound  could  be  carried  to  the  next  room.  The  person  on 
the  other  side  also  lay  on  the  floor,  putting  his  ear  against 
the  pipe.  Later  the  men  dug  a  little  hole  around  the  pipe,  and 
we  passed  through  notes,  all  of  course  absolutely  non-political 
in  character  because  there  might  have  been  a  spy  in  the 
room  adjoining.  One  of  the  men,  who  was  an  artist,  drew 
sketches  of  all  of  us  as  he  imagined  we  would  look,  and  we 
had  a  great  deal  of  fun. 

There  was  a  girl  in  our  room  who  developed  a  real  ro- 
mance by  means  of  our  clandestine  correspondence.  She  had 
already  had  a  novel  and  rather  romantic  escapade.  She  was 
a  Russian,  but  had  lived  for  some  time  in  Tiflis,  the  capital 
of  Georgia,  where  she  was  a  student  at  the  University,  and 
when  Georgia  went  Red  she  decided  she  would  like  to  get  out 
of  the  country,  so  she  contracted  a  Soviet  marriage  with  a 
Turk  in  order  to  leave  with  him  for  Constantinople.  Of 
course  it  was  only  a  mariage  de  convenance  and  they  were  to 
part  as  soon  as  they  got  to  Turkey,  but  at  Batoum,  where  they 
were  to  take  the  steamer,  the  Turk  was  arrested  for  espionage, 
accused  of  being  an  English  agent,  and  brought  to  Moscow 
with  his  Russian  bride,  who  was  held  as  a  witness  against  him. 

Once  I  was  summoned  to  our  improvised  telephone  and  to 
my  surprise  heard  a  familiar  voice  at  the  other  end.  It  was 
that  of  the  Commandant  of  the  government  guest  house  where 
I  had  lived  so  long,  and  whom  I  had  last  seen  taking  part  in 
the  search  of  my  room.  "Margarita  Bernardovna,"  he  whis- 
pered, *T  want  to  tell  you  that  all  your  baggage  is  sealed  and 
quite  safe."  He  also  gave  me  news  of  my  Czecho-Slovak 
friends  and  other  people  whom  I  had  known  at  the  Horitonev- 
ski.  He  was  accused,  it  seemed  of  speculation,  but  he  was 
shortly  taken  away  and  I  don't  know  what  became  of  him. 


270  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

We  always  posted  sentinels  at  the  door  while  these  clan- 
destine conversations  were  going  on,  but  several  times  we  had 
narrow  escapes.  Once  one  of  the  girls  was  lying  on  the  floor 
talking  through  the  pipe,  when  the  guard  who  had  approached 
on  tiptoe,  opened  the  door  very  unexpectedly.  I  just  had  pres- 
ence of  mind  ejiough  to  kick  her  as  a  warning  not  to  get  up 
and  then  I  sat  down  unconcernedly  on  the  bed  under  which 
she  was  lying  and  swung  my  feet.  Finally  we  began  to  feel 
that  we  were  suspected  and  we  were  still  more  uneasy  when  a 
Finnish  girl  who  had  been  really  imprudent,  even  going  to  the 
extent  of  throwing  notes  out  of  the  window  to  compatriots 
who  worked  at  the  electric  saw  in  the  yard  below,  was  detected, 
and  taken  off  to  solitary  confinement.  One  night,  March  24th, 
to  be  exact,  at  about  eleven  o'clock,  guards  came  to  our  room 
and  ordered  us  to  pack  immediately..  We  were  sure  that 
everything  had  been  discovered  and  that  we  were  bound  for 
the  podval.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  make  the  best  of  it, 
so  we  collected  our  belongings  and  prepared  to  spend  our 
Easter  underground.  Our  stuffy,  overcrowded  room  suddenly 
looked  very  comfortable,  and  we  filed  out  into  the  corridor, 
a  disconsolate  procession  of  nine  women,  laden  with  miscel- 
laneous baggage  of  every  description. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 
AN  ATTIC  CELL 

Much  to  our  surprise,  however,  we  were  taken  upstairs, 
not  down,  and  found  ourselves  on  the  top  or  garret  floor,  which 
had  formerly  been  used  for  employees.  Evidently  the  con- 
gestion had  become  so  great  that  it  had  been  necessary  to 
transform  this  floor  also  into  prison  quarters. 

The  room  into  which  we  were  shown  contained  about  as 
much  floor  space  as  the  one  below,  but  it  was  shorter  and 
wider.  The  walls,  which  had  been  newly  painted,  sloped  at  a 
sharp  angle  on  three  sides,  making  it  seem  smaller,  and  there 
was  only  one  small  dormer  window,  giving  most  insufficient 
light,  and  hermetically  sealed.  As  usual  I  made  for  the  bed 
nearest  the  window,  but  even  there  it  was  intolerably  close, 
the  air  was  damp,  cold,  permeated  with  the  smell  of  fresh 
paint.  The  beds  were  new,  and  therefore  absolutely  clean, 
but  we  had  mostly  old  pallets  which  were  anything  but  above 
suspicion. 

We  unpacked  and  went  to  bed,  but  no  one  was  able  to  sleep. 
The  atmosphere  was  absolutely  stifling  and  as  chill  as  a  vault. 
To  add  to  the  other  smells  our  parashka  was  without  a  lid. 
We  knocked  repeatedly  on  the  door  during  the  night  demand- 
ing air  and  a  lid  for  the  parashka.  The  former  request  was 
refused,  and  we  were  told  that  there  were  no  lids  for  the 
parashkas  on  that  floor,  but  that  they  were  being  made.  I 
remained  in  that  room  until  the  beginning  of  June,  but  we 
never  received  a  cover  and  we  had  to  make  a  piece  of  old 
porous  bagging  answer  the  purpose. 

By  morning  we  were  all  fairly  gasping  for  breath,  had 
turned  various  shades  of  white,  green  or  yellow,  according  to 
our  various  complexions,  and  we  were  so  weak  we  were  hardly 
able  to  move.     We  demanded  the  Commandant ;  the  Natsiratl, 

271 


272  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

or  ofificer  on  duty,  who  was  one  of  the  few  brutal  guards,  a  Lett 
by  the  way,  refused  to  send  for  him.  Finally  we  wrote  a 
collective  Zdyavlenye  to  Menjinski,  the  head  of  the  Secret 
Section  of  the  Checka.     It  simply  said : 

"We  are  suffocating.  If  you  don't  believe  it  come  and  see 
for  yourself,"  and  it  was  signed  by  all  of  us. 

Now  the  writing  of  these  petitions  is  one  of  the  inalienable 
rights  of  prisoners  which  has  never  been  questioned.  Our 
warder  was  afraid  to  hold  it  back  and  sent  for  the  Command- 
ant. In  two  hours  he  arrived,  and  I  think  he  was  frightened 
himself  at  our  appearance,  for  he  ordered  the  window  to  be 
broken  open  immediately.  After  that  it  was  never  closed, 
but  we  were  strictly  forbidden  to  look  out  of  it  into  the  court- 
yard. Of  course  we  did  look  when  we  were  not  observed,  and 
it  was  an  unfailing  source  of  amusement  to  us,  for  it  was  op- 
posite the  registration  office  where  all  prisoners  who  are  dis- 
charged or  sent  to  other  prisons  receive  their  papers,  and  the 
pridvoritelne,  or  general  detention  room,  where  prisoners  are 
frequently  held  pending  commitment  or  cross-examination. 

By  standing  on  one  of  the  beds,  in  the  shadow,  a  little  back 
from  the  window,  we  had  a  good  view  of  all  who  passed 
through,  and  when  our  companions  were  taken  out  we  always 
arranged  for  them  to  give  us  a  sign  to  show  whether  they  were 
to  be  set  at  liberty.  Sometimes  we  were  indiscreet  and  were 
reported  on  by  someone  opposite;  then  there  were  threats  to 
close  the  window  oi;  we  were  told  that  if  anyone  appeared  at 
it  the  sentry  had  orders  to  fire,  which  he  actually  did  once  or 
twice  to  frighten  us. 

During  the  weeks  that  followed  we  endured  other  physical 
discomforts  the  chief  of  which  were  the  frequent  breakdowns 
of  the  pltunbing,  which  necessitated  repairs  that  kept  us  from 
going  to  the  bathroom  sometimes  for  eighteen  hours  at  a 
stretch,  and  the  breakdown  of  the  apparatus  for  boiling  water. 
When  this  happened,  as  it  did  several  times,  water  had  to  be 
boiled  on  the  prison  stove,  we  were  only  allowed  a  cup  of 
tea  apiece  morning  and  evening,  though  we  usually  cajoled 
the  guards  into  giving  us  a  little  more,  and  there  was  no  boiled 
drinking  water  in  the  cooler  in  the  corridor  to  which  we  were 


AN  ATTIC  CELL  273 

usually  allowed  access.  Once  during  the  very  hot  weather  in 
May  this  state  of  affairs  continued  for  a  week  at  a  time. 

Meanwhile,  the  political  situation  continued  to  be  very  in- 
teresting. Nearly  all  the  prisoners  were  Socialists,  Menshe- 
viks,  Right  Social  Revolutionaries  and  Jewish  Bundists,  be- 
longing to  the  seceding  faction  of  the  Bund  which  did  not  unite 
with  the  Third  International.  We  continued  the  political  dis- 
cussions begun  downstairs,  but  there  were  no  more  hunger 
strikes  and  no  more  obstruction. 

Having  a  majority  of  Socialists,  we  instituted  a  Commune, 
and  as  I  was  the  oldest  inhabitant  in  point  of  length  of  im- 
prisonment and  all  the  indications  were  that  I  was  a  permanent 
fixture,  I  was  appointed  Food  Administrator.  We  pooled  all 
our  peredacJias,  and  every  day  I  had  to  plan  menus  for  the 
three  meals.  Sometimes  when  most  of  us  were  receiving  food 
packages,  we  lived  sumptuously;  again,  when  there  were  many 
from  other  cities,  with  no  connections  in  Moscow,  there  was 
hardly  enough  to  go  around.  It  must  be  remembered,  how- 
ever, that  all  the  food  we  received  from  the  outside  was  cold, 
and  we  had  no  means  of  heating  It.  After  eight  months  of 
perpetual  picnics  I  began  to  find  this  very  trying. 

In  our  new  room  we  started  several  new  amusements,  one 
of  which  was  Swedish  gymnastics,  the  other  Spiritualism.  We 
never  had  a  real  medium,  but  we  drew  a  circle  on  a  large 
sheet  of  wrapping  paper,  marked  letters  and  numbers  around 
it,  placed  an  overturned  saucer  on  it,  with  an  arrow  indicator 
marked  on  one  side,  and  then  put  our  fingers  on  the  saucer, 
very  lightly,  but  in  such  a  way  as  to  form  an  unbroken  circle 
of  contact.  Then  we  kept  perfectly  still.  In  a  few  minutes  the 
"spirits"  began  to  get  busy  spelling  out  remarkable  messages 
to  the  credulous.  I  used  to  have  great  fun  with  this,  imper- 
ceptibly guiding  the  saucer  so  that  it  would  stop  opposite  the 
letters  I  wanted,  and  my  companions  never  caught  on.  Once 
or  twice,  however,  when  I  did  absolutely  nothing  we  made 
some  experiments  that  had  really  interesting  psychic  results. 

There  was  an  old  Lithuanian  peasant  woman  in  the  room, 
who  looked  upon  our  proceedings  with  grave  disapproval,  re- 
garding them  as  nothing  less  than  necromancy.     She  always 


274  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

sat  in  the  far  end  of  the  room  and  crossed  herself  when  we 
began.  One  night  she  was  sitting  there  as  usual  when  she  sud- 
denly jumped  up  with  a  wild  whoop  and  commenced  switch- 
ing under  the  bed  with  a  handkerchief.  'There  he  is;  I  see 
him!"  "What  is  it,  Christina?"  we  cried,  thinking  that  it  was 
probably  a  rat,  for  we  were  pestered  with  a  plague  of  mice. 

**The  Devil,"  she  answered  promptly,  and  nothing  could 
make  her  believe  that  she  had  not  seen  the  Evil  One  in  per- 
son lurking  under  our  beds. 

We  had  a  number  of  peasants  at  different  times  during  the 
winter,  and  they  were  all  interesting  types  in  their  way,  but 
the  funniest  was  Anna  Ivanovna  "Kapusta."  "Kapusta"  in 
Russian  means  cabbage,  and  that  was  just  what  Anna  Ivanovna 
most  resembled  with  her  face  and  figure  exactly  like  a  full 
blown  head  of  early  cabbage.  She  was  arrested  by  mistake 
for  a  person  with  a  similar  name  who  was  supposed  to  have 
been  implicated  in  the  Kronstadt  rebellion  and  she  was  re- 
leased after  ten  days  when  the  error  was  straightened  out. 

Her  account  of  her  arrest,  during  which  she  unconsciously 
implicated  herself  still  further  was  one  of  the  funniest  I  ever 
heard.  "I'd  just  come  home  from  work,  sweating  all  over," 
she  said,  "when  a  fellow  comes  into  my  room  and  says  I'm 
arrested." 

"'Why?'  I  asks." 

"  'Haven't  you  had  relations  with  sailors  from  Petro- 
grad  ?'  says  he." 

"Sure,"  I  answered,  "the  fellow  I  goes  out  with  is  a  sailor." 

"  'Give  up  your  papers  and  documents,'  "  he  orders  real 
sharp,  so  I  hands  him  out  my  worker's  certificate  and  my 
prayerbook  which  was  all  the  documents  I  had. 
"  'Where's  your  party  card?'  he  asks." 

"I  knew  I  had  to  have  a  bread  card,  but  I'd  never  heard 
of  them  things  and  I  told  him  so.  He  wouldn't  listen  to 
nothing  else,  just  brought  me  along  and  threw  me  into  this 
room.  Wait  till  I  get  out  of  this,  I'm  going  back  to  the 
village." 

Anna  Ivanovna  had  had  quite  enough  of  being  part  of  the 
class-conscious  proletariat,  and  I  am  sure  she  kept  her  word. 


AN  ATTIC  CELL  275 

I  was  asked  by  several  of  my  friends  to  give  a  series  of 
talks  on  foreign  countries,  to  be  held  every  evening  after  sup- 
per, so  I  brushed  up  my  history,  geography  and  economics, 
and  told  them  all  I  knew  about  America,  France,  Germany, 
and  the  British  Empire.  They  were  insatiable  in  their  desire 
for  information.  I  drew  geographic  and  economic  maps  of  the 
various  countries,  showing  their  physical  features,  various 
zones  of  production,  natural  resources,  explained  the  origin 
of  the  people,  outlined  their  history  down  to  the  present  day, 
sketched  the  Great  War  to  its  close,  and  the  effect  it  has  had 
on  industrial,  social  and  political  conditions  the  world  over. 
They  also  wanted  to  know  all  about  literature,  art,  architec- 
ture and  national  customs. 

In  return  they  told  me  all  about  Russia,  for  they  were  ex- 
ceedingly well  up  on  all  subjects  pertaining  to  their  own  coun- 
try. Our  talks  extended  over  nearly  a  month,  and  their  interest 
never  flagged.  This  to  me  was  very  remarkable.  The  Rus- 
sians possess  in  a  wonderful  degree  the  faculty  of  forgetting 
their  own  personal  problems  and  of  complete  absorption  in 
purely  abstract  or  impersonal  questions.  I  don't  believe  that 
anywhere  else  in  the  world  it  would  be  possible  to  find  a  group 
of  nine  women,  all  in  prison  with  no  immediate  prospect  of 
release,  isolated  from  their  families,  suffering  great  physical 
discomforts,  and  many  of  them  facing  serious  charges,  who 
would  be  interested  in  such  matters. 

This  attitude  on  the  part  of  most  of  the  women  with  whom 
I  was  thrown  and  my  blessed  sense  of  humor  were  the  two 
things  that  enabled  me  to  carry  on  through  ten  long  months  of 
imprisonment.  Under  such  conditions  you  have  either  got  to 
go  under  or  live  for  things  of  the  mind  and  spirit.  There  is 
no  middle  course. 

In  studying  the  types  with  whom  I  was  thrown  I  found 
that  the  old  aristocrats,  trained  party  workers  and  simple 
peasants  were  the  people  who  stood  imprisonment  best.  The 
weakest,  the  most  spoiled  and  also  the  most  treacherous  and 
dishonorable,  with  few  exceptions,  were  members  of  the 
former  middle  bourgeoisie.     They  lived  best,  complained  the 


276  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

most  and  betrayed  their  companions  the  oftenest  in  prison. 
Sometimes  they  almost  made  me  class  conscious. 

Occasionally  the  terror  of  some  of  these  poor  people  who 
had  been  arrested  without  any  warning  had  its  comic  side. 
Once  an  old  lady  was  brought  to  our  room,  carrying  as  her  sole 
piece  of  baggage  an  empty  milk  can. 

"I  was  so  flustered  when  I  was  arrested,"  she  said,  "that  I 
grabbed  the  first  thing  in  sight."  This  same  old  lady  although 
she  was  never  in  the  slightest  danger,  being  held  merely  as  a 
witness,  was  obsessed  with  the  idea  that  she  was  to  be  shot. 
One  night  her  plank  bed  slipped  off  the  trestle  which  sup- 
ported it  and  fell  to  the  floor,  old  lady  and  all,  with  an  awful 
thud.     She  waked  up  shrieking: 

"I'm  shot,  I'm  shot." 

It  was  a  long  time  before  we  could  convince  her  that  she 
wasn't  dead. 

In  the  late  spring  I  was  at  last  able  to  get  some  books  after 
I  had  in  vain  appealed  to  my  Sledovatl  all  winter  to  let  me 
have  some  reading  matter.  The  Commandant  of  our  prison 
was  removed  and  a  Lett  appointed  in  his  place.  Several  times 
I  had  occasion  to  ask  small  favors  of  him,  which  he  always 
granted,  and  I  noticed  that  his  manner  towards  me  was  a 
shade  more  friendly  than  towards  the  other  prisoners.  I  imag- 
ined that  this  was  because  I  never  had  hysterics,  never  made  a 
scandal,  which  is  the  Russian  for  making  a  scene,  and  never 
made  unreasonable  demands,  but  I  was  soon  to  know  the 
real  reason. 

One  day  I  asked  him  if  he  could  let  me  have  some  books. 
He  said  nothing,  but  the  following  afternoon  a  guard  came  and 
called  out  "Garrison  to  the  Commandant."  People  who  had 
committed  some  breach  of  discipline  were  usually  summoned 
before  the  Commandant  for  reprimand  or  punishment,  and  I 
wondered  what  I  had  done.  When  I  arrived  at  his  office  he 
ordered  his  assistant  to  leave  and  shut  the  door.  Then  he 
said  very  kindly :  "You  asked  for  books.  I  have  a  few  here 
that  have  been  confiscated  from  the  prisoners'  baggage;  you 
can  look  them  over  and  take  your  choice." 

I  thanked  him,  went  to  the  bookshelves  in  a  corner  picked 


AN  ATTIC  CELL  277 

out  two,  and  then  he  said  quite  abruptly :  "You  are  an  Ameri- 
can.   America  is  a  great  country.    Tell  me  all  about  it." 

I  sat  down  and  talked  to  him  for  about  twenty  minutes. 
When  I  had  finished  he  said  quietly:  "I  have  a  brother  in 
America.  I've  often  wondered  how  he  was  living  for  the  past 
seven  years.  I  meant  to  go  there  myself,  too,  but  I  was 
caught  by  the  conscription  at  the  beginning  of  the  Great  War. 
Thank  you  very  much." 

So  that  was  the  secret  of  his  kindness  to  me.  He  had 
once  wanted,  and  perhaps  still  secretly  longed  to  be  an  Ameri- 
can himself.  Before  I  left  the  ofifice  I  had  persuaded  him  to 
give  me  a  pencil  and  paper,  giving  him  in  return  my  word 
of  honor  that  I  would  not  let  them  out  of  my  hands.  After  that 
I  was  able  to  exchange  my  books  every  week  or  so.  There 
were  a  number  of  interesting  Russian  novels,  some  good 
French  classics  and  several  German  books  to  choose  from.  On 
his  shelves  I  noticed  also  a  number  of  missals  in  the  old 
Slavonic  that  had  evidently  been  taken  from  priests. 

Periodically  throughout  my  term  of  imprisonment  in  the 
Checka  we  were  annoyed  by  spies.  I  say  annoyed  merely 
because  anyone  who  has  been  in  prison  for  a  certain  length 
of  time,  or  who  has  ever  been  in  prison  before,  knows  how  to 
size  up  and  detect  a  nasyetka.  She  is  sometimes  very  clever 
and  plausible,  and  inexperienced  persons  often  fall  for  her. 
Safe  general  rules  are  never  to  trust  a  person  until  you  have 
been  together  for  at  least  two  weeks,  or  unless  you  know 
his  or  her  antecedents  and  record,  never  to  trust  anyone 
who  talks  too  openly  at  first  against  the  government  and  to 
beware  of  people  who  are  called  frequently  or  at  unusual  times 
to  a  dopros.  Even  then  mistakes  are  sometimes  made  with 
disastrous  results,  and  newcomers  are  often  amazingly  indis- 
creet before  they  can  be  warned. 

Once  a  young  girl  employed  in  one  of  the  Soviet  offices 
was  brought  to  our  room  in  the  middle  of  the  night.  Before 
anyone  could  stop  her  she  burst  out,  "Oh,  I'm  so  frightened 
I  don't  know  what  to  do.  My  brother  was  arrested  last  year, 
tried  for  counter-revolutionary  activities  and  condemned  to 
ten  years   in  prison.     He  escaped    from  the   Butierki   three 


278  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

months  ago,  and  has  been  hiding  in  Moscow  ever  since.  The 
Bolsheviks  think  he  has  left  the  country,  but  he  often  comes 
in  to  see  us.  He  is  living" — here  she  named  the  street  and 
house  number.  "I  feel  sure  they  have  found  out  something, 
and  they  are  going  to  cross-examine  me  about  him."  As  it 
turned  out  there  was  no  spy  with  us  at  the  time,  but  if  there 
had  been  the  brother  would  have  been  captured  the  next  day. 

When  the  girl  was  summoned  to  a  cross-examination  it 
turned  out  that  she  was  accused  of  having  received  a  present 
from  a  member  of  a  foreign  mission.  She  was  thoroughly 
frightened  and  released  on  her  promise  to  resist  such  blandish- 
ments from  Oriental  gentlemen  in  the  future. 

The  nasyetkas  were  of  two  types:  the  agents  who  simply 
listened  to  the  conversations  that  went  on,  and  the  provocators 
who  tried  to  get  the  prisoners  to  implicate  themselves  and 
others  by  involving  them  in  illicit  intercourse  with  their  com- 
rades in  other  rooms  or  with  persons  at  liberty.  There  was  an 
interesting  case  of  that  sort  in  the  early  spring.  A  young 
Jewish  woman,  a  member  of  the  Social  Revolutionary  party, 
who  had  been  in  prison  for  several  weeks  was  suddenly  told  to 
pack  her  things  as  she  was  to  be  freed  within  an  hour.  So  say- 
ing the  guard  left  the  room.  This  was  rather  unusual,  as 
prisoners  are  generally  not  told  their  fate  until  they  are  taken 
to  the  Commandant's  office,  and  if  they  are  to  be  released  they 
are  not  left  alone  for  a  minute  while  packing  for  fear  that 
they  may  secrete  notes  from  other  prisoners.  The  girl, 
who  had  been  arrested  before  was  well  aware  of  this  fact,  and 
her  suspicions  were  immediately  aroused.  She  refused  all 
requests  to  take  out  notes  from  her  fellow  party  members,  as 
well  as  one  from  an  apparently  much  persecuted  Menshevik, 
who  begged  her  to  take  a  message  to  party  headquarters,  and 
seemed  bitterly  disappointed  when  she  refused. 

She  was  then  taken  downstairs  and  searched  from  head  to 
foot  by  a  woman  with  a  minuteness  and  in  a  manner  which 
ordinary  decency  prevents  me  from  describing  in  detail. 
Nothing  of  course  was  found.  After  this  she  was  released, 
but,  happening  to  remember  that  she  had  left  something  in  her, 
room,  she  went  back  to  the  Commandant's  office  to  ask  for 


ANi  ATTIC  CELL  279 

it  and  was  immediately  rearrested  and  locked  up  on  the  same 
floor,  although  not  in  the  same  room  she  had  previously  oc- 
cupied. It  was  perfectly  evident  what  had  happened.  The 
Menshevik  with  whom  she  had  been  in  prison  was  an  agent 
provocateur,  she  had  offered  to  send  out  a  message  herself 
and  had  tried  to  persuade  the  other  Social  Revolutionaries  in 
the  room  that  it  was  perfectly  safe  to  do  so,  in-order  to  obtain 
information  that  would  lead  to  the  arrest  of  persons  then  at 
liberty.  The  Checka  had  never  intended  from  the  first  to 
release  the  girl  and  if  she  had  not  happened  to  return  to  the 
office  she  would  have  later  been  rearrested  in  her  own  home. 
At  one  time  a  woman  was  brought  to  our  room  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  morning,  which  was  unusual  as  most  people  are  ar- 
rested at  night.  She  seemed  like  a  rather  stupid,  unintelligent 
person,  but  kindly  and  good-natured.  I  had  several  friends  who 
spoke  some  French  and  German  and  we  often  conversed  in 
those  languages.  She  always  professed  that  she  was  sorry  she 
could  not  join  our  discussions,  as  she  was  unable  to  speak 
either  language.  There  was  a  young  girl  in  our  room,  almost 
a  child,  who  for  no  apparent  reason,  took  a  violent  dislike  to 
our  new  companion.  One  day  the  child,  who  was  a  fiery 
little  thing,  got  into  a  violent  dispute  with  her,  and  to  get 
even  dropped  her  slippers  into  the  parashka.  The  woman  pro- 
tested, whereupon  the  little  girl  threatened  to  beat  her.  No 
one  interfered,  for  she  was  not  a  popular  person,  and  the 
woman  was  terrified.  Turning  to  me,  she  shrieked  in  perfectly 
good  French,  "Madame,  Madame,  save  me  from  this  little 
wild  cat!  Oh,  mon  Dieu,  the  child  will  kill  me!"  It  was 
rather  amusing,  but  it  did  not  cause  us  any  uneasiness,  because 
no  one  had  trusted  her  from  the  beginning  and  it  only  con- 
firmed our  suspicions. 

In  spite  of  all  my  interests  and  activities,  and  the  sys- 
tematic efforts  I  made  to  keep  in  good  physical  shape,  the  long 
confinement  without  air  or  exercise  began  to  tell  terribly  on  my 
health  and  in  the  late  winter  I  started  to  run  a  persistent  tem- 
perature, a  bad  cold  in  December  had  left  me  with  a  bother- 
some cough,  and  I  was  very  weak.  I  spoke  several  times  to 
the  physician  about  my  condition,  but  she  said  that  she  could 


280  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

do  nothing  for  me  as  she  only  had  the  power  to  send  people 
to  hospitals.  I  also  wrote  several  times  to  my  sledovatl,  asking 
to  be  transferred  to  some  place  where  I  could  have  fresh  air 
and  sunshine,  but  received  no  answer.  Finally  one  day  when 
I  was  feeling  particularly  ill,  one  of  the  medical  students  who 
had  frequently  had  occasion  to  visit  our  room  asked  me  if  he 
could  do  anything  for  me.  I  told  him  that  no  medicine  would 
do  me  any  good,  and  that  all  I  needed  was  air  and  sun.  He 
promised  to  ask  the  doctor  to  write  a  recommendation  for  my 
transfer  to  another  prison.  I  heard  nothing  more  for  a  week, 
and  then  one  afternoon,  quite  unexpectedly,  a  guard  appeared 
with  the  order,  "Garrison,  pack  your  clothes."  I  had  given 
up  hope  of  ever  hearing  my  name  called  that  way,  but  I  stag- 
gered to  my  feet,  got  my  belongings  together,  said  good-bye 
to  my  friends,  half  walked,  half  fell  down  four  flights  of  stairs 
with  my  heavy  baggage.  Then  I  was  taken  to  the  court 
through  which  I  had  seen  so  many  of  my  companions  pass, 
and  to  the  registration  office,  where  I  received  my  transfer 
papers  to  the  Novenski  and  the  receipts  for  my  valuables,  which 
however,  were  retained  in  the  Checka.  Then  I  was  assigned 
an  armed  escort,  and  to  my  amazement,  taken,  not  back  into 
the  court  to  join  an  echelon  of  other  prisoners,  but  out  into 
the  street. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
WHEREIN  A  JAILBIRD  TURNS  JAILER 

For  a  moment  I  was  dazed  by  the  imexpectedness  of  what 
had  happened.  I  had  thought  that  I  was  to  be  taken  to  the 
Novenski  in  the  big  Black  Maria  which  was  ordinarily  used 
to  transfer  prisoners  from  one  place  to  another,  and  which  I 
had  often  surreptitiously  looked  at  from  my  attic  window 
as  it  was  being  loaded  in  the  court  below. 

But  here  I  was,  thrown  out  into  the  Lubianka  Square,  with 
my  escort,  a  good-natured,  stupid  Russian  boy  about  seven- 
teen years  old,  with  no  idea  as  to  where  I  was  going  or  how 
I  was  to  get  there.  I  simply  knew  the  name  of  the  prison,  that 
was  all.  The  dazzling  sunlight  blinded  my  eyes,  and  I  felt  like 
a  mole  that  has  suddenly  come  up  from  months  underground. 
The  noise  of  passing  trolley  cars,  carts  and  droschkes  deafened 
me,  and  I  was  confused  by  the  stream  of  passersby.  Still 
thinking,  quite  naturally,  that  as  I  was  ill,  some  means  of 
transportation  would  be  provided  for  me,  I  waited  for  my 
guard  to  call  an  isvostchik,  one  of  the  picturesque  cabbies 
who  were  waiting  nearby  for  fares,  but  he  made  no  move, 
and  stood  quite  dumbly  with  my  bedding  roll  over  his  shoulder 
and  his  rifle  in  one  hand. 

"Well,  aren't  you  going  to  requisition  a  droschke?"  I  asked 
finally. 

*T  have  no  authority  to  do  that,"  he  answered.  "We've 
got  to  walk," 

"I  can't  walk,"  I  protested.  "I  am  much  too  weak.  Go 
back  and  tell  the  Commandant  that  I  must  have  a  cab,"  but 
this  he  resolutely  refused  to  do.  He  made  no  move  to  go  on, 
but  continued  to  gaze  stolidly  in  front  of  him  at  the  passing 
crowd.  Seeing  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  done,  I  resolved 
to  try  to  foot  it  to  the  Novenski,  but  as  I  was  very  weak  and 

281 


282  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

hampered  with  a  bag  and  knapsack  into  the  bargain,  I  had 
grave  doubts  as  to  whether  I  could  make  it. 

"Let's  walk,  then,"  I  said,  "but  we  must  go  very  slowly. 
Where  is  the  Novenski  prison?" 

"Ne  snaio  (I  don't  know),"  was  the  unexpected  answer. 

Under  the  circumstances  there  was  nothing  for  me  to  do 
but  put  myself  in  prison  again,  so  I  walked  up  to  a  gentleman 
who  was  passing  and  asked  him  the  way  to  the  Novenski.  "I 
am  a  prisoner,  and  am  being  transferred  from  the  Lubianka," 
I  explained,  "but  my  guard  hasn't  the  faintest  idea  as  to  how 
to  get  there." 

Under  ordinary  circumstances  in  an  ordinary  country  any- 
one would  have  been  astonished  to  say  the  least,  at  such  a  ques- 
tion, but  nobody  is  ever  astonished  at  anything  in  present-day 
Russia.  Without  any  comment  he  explained  the  easiest  route 
to  get  there,  and  then  added  very  kindly,  his  voice  betraying 
the  sympathy  he  did  not  dare  put  into  words — "But  you  can't 
walk  there,  it  is  very  far,  at  least  six  versts,  and  you  have  a 
lot  of  baggage  to  carry."  Then  he  lifted  his  hat  and  passed 
on,  a  bit  hurriedly,  for  it  isn't  very  safe  to  be  seen  talking  to 
a  prisoner  in  the  street. 

For  a  few  minutes  I  stood  undecided,  not  knowing  what 
to  do ;  then  I  had  an  inspiration.  I  had  no  money,  and  I  could 
not  pay  an  isz^ostchik,  but  I  had  two  cans  of  American  corned 
beef  in  my  bag.  Perhaps  I  could  find  one  who  would  accept 
that  as  payment.  I  negotiated  with  three  without  result,  ex- 
plaining that  I  was  a  foreigner,  ill  and  being  transferred  from 
the  Checka  to  the  Novenski  prison,  but  that  I  was  out  of 
money  and  could  only  pay  in  American  canned  beef.  I  got  out 
a  can  as  a  sample,  it  was  examined,  weighed  and  turned  down, 
and  I  was  about  in  despair  of  ever  being  able  to  get  locked 
up  again  when  I  struck  an  old  man  with  one  leg  who  agreed 
to  take  me. 

I  was  about  to  get  into  the  droschke  when  I  saw  an 
acquaintance,  a  woman  with  whom  I  had  spent  more  than 
three  weeks  in  the  Lubianka.  She  dashed  up  to  me,  kissed  me 
on  both  cheeks,  and  exclaimed  effusively  how  glad  she  was  to 
see  me  out  again ;  but  when  I  explained  that  I  was  not  free,  but 


WHEREIN  A  JAILBIRD  TURNS  JAILER  283 

on  my  way  to  another  prison,  she  cast  one  frightened  look 
about  her  and  scuttled  away  down  a  side  street,  hardly  waiting 
to  say  good-bye.  Then  my  guard  andl,  having  piled  the  bag- 
gage in  front  of  us,  took  our  places  on  the  back  seat  of  the 
droschke,  he  with  his  rifle  between  his  knees,  both  of  us  smok- 
ing cigarettes  and  chatting  very  amicably. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  prison  I  was  very  nearly  all  in,  my 
head  was  spinning,  my  knees  wobbled,  and  I  felt  that  I  had 
a  high  temperature.  If  I  could  only  get  somewhere  so  I  could 
rest !  The  gloomy  brick  f agade  of  the  prison,  which  is  a  sub- 
stantially built  structure,  dating  from  Imperial  times,  and  has 
long  been  used  as  a  criminal  prison  for  women,  did  not  look 
as  forbidding  as  it  would  have  under  ordinary  circumstances, 
and  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  positive  relief  that  I  saw  the  face 
of  the  warder  appear  at  the  door  in  answer  to  my  ring. 

Inside,  I  at  once  realized  that  I  had  come  to  a  very  different 
sort  of  place.  Instead  of  a  "checkist"  in  a  tall  cap  I  found 
a  pleasant-faced,  gentle-voiced  woman  in  the  room  for  the 
reception  of  prisoners,  who  took  my  name,  asked  me  a  few 
necessary  question  and  turned  me  over  to  a  woman  attendant 
to  be  taken  to  the  prison  hospital  for  a  medical  examination. 
Afterwards  she  and  I  became  great  friends.  She  was  a  pris- 
oner herself,  the  widow  of  a  White  officer,  which  constituted 
the  sole  reason  for  her, being  in  prison,  for  she  was  one  of  the 
least  politically-minded  persons  I  have  ever  seen. 

When  I  left  the  office  and  was  taken  out  into  the  court  on 
my  way  to  the  hospital,  I  felt  as  if  I  were  in  a  sort  of  terres- 
trial paradise.  The  court  was  a  large  one,  with  grass  and 
flowering  shrubs,  and  brilliantly  flooded  with  sunshine.  Here 
and  there  were  benches  on  which  women  were  sitting,  talking, 
knitting  and  sewing,  a  girl  was  strumming  the  balalaika,  little 
children  were  making  mud  pies.  In  the  center  was  a  small 
white  church,  behind  it  a  library.  Around  were  the  prison 
buildings,  on  one  side  of  which  were  the  one-story  offices  from 
which  I  had  just  come,  on  the  other  the  hospital,  also  a  one- 
story  building  with  a  row  of  large  open  windows,  facing  the 
Western  sun. 

At  the  back  a  large  arched  gate  led  to  the  street,  and  at  the 


284  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

left  of  the  quadrangle  was  the  prison  proper,  with  barred  win- 
dows, it  is  true,  but  with  growing  plants  and  flowers  in  them, 
doors  wide  open,  people  coming  and  going.  To  the  right  was 
a  workshop,  and  at  the  bottom  of  the  yard  which  sloped 
slightly  was  a  building  which  I  afterwards  found  contained  the 
schoolroom,  kitchens,  repair  shops  and  a  large  recreation  hall. 
Just  as  I  was  about  to  enter  the  door  of  the  hospital  I  heard 
a  wild  shriek  of  joy  from  the  yard,  followed  by  a  glimpse  of  a 
familiar  figure  running  towards  me,  and  in  a  minute  two 
arms  were  around  my  neck.  One  of  my  best  friends,  a  Social 
Revolutionary  with  whom  I  had  spent  many  weeks  in  the 
Checka,  had  recognized  me.  Others  followed  suit,  and  soon  I 
was  the  center  of  a  perfect  mob  of  former  friends,  being  kissed 
violently  and  repeatedly  on  both  cheeks  to  the  accompaniment 
of  exclamations  of  "Margarita  Bernardovna,"  "Slava  Bog" 
(thank  God),  and  overwhelmed  with  questions  as  to  the  fate 
of  other  friends  who  had  been  left  behind  in  the  Checka.  We 
had  all  lived  through  much  together,  and  we  had  never  ex- 
pected to  see  each  other  again.    It  was  very  wonderful. 

I  was  swept  off  to  the  dispensary,  rescued  from  the  medical 
examination,  and  from  quarantine,  where  I  would  ordinarily 
have  spent  two  weeks.  "Margarita  Bernardovna  is  the  clean- 
est woman  I  ever  saw,"  explained  one  of  my  friends  solemnly 
to  the  "felcheritza,"  the  nurse  who  was  examining  all  new- 
comers. "She  washes  all  over  twice  a  day,  and  she  has  no  in- 
fectious disease." 

Then  I  was  carried  off  in  triumph  to  a  large  airy  room, 
where  at  first  I  nearly  fainted.  Someone  made  hot  tea  for  me, 
someone  else  helped  me  unpack  and  get  to  bed,  where  I  lay, 
quite  weak,  but  very  happy  and  holding  a  sort  of  impromptu 
reception. 

The  next  day,  I  began  to  take  up  the  regular  prison  life, 
which,  barring  the  food,  that  was  worse  than  in  the  Checka, 
was  as  pleasant  and  as  nearly  normal  as  life  can  be  in  any 
prison. 

I  occupied  a  room  with  eleven  other  prisoners,  with  two 
exceptions  all  "politicals."  Our  beds  were  composed  of  iron 
tubing  covered  with  a  canvas  slip  that  was  as  comfortable  as  a 


WHEREIN  A  JAILBIRD  TURNS  JAILER  285 

good  hammock.  They  were  fastened  to  the  wall  with  hinges 
and  turned  up  against  it  in  the  day  time,  leaving  the  floor  space 
free.  At  the  foot  of  each  l)ed  was  a  small  chest  on  long 
legs,  known  in  prison  slang  as  a  "dog,"  which  served  to  hold 
our  belongings  and  as  a  bench.  There  was  a  long  table  with 
two  shelves  underneath,  where  we  stored  all  our  provisions 
and  utensils.  All  of  the  other  rooms  were  similar,  though  some 
were  larger,  holding  as  many  as  twenty-four  women,  and  on 
each  floor  were  two  large  clean  bathrooms  with  modern  plumb- 
ing and  plenty  of  toilet  facilities.  In  addition  there  was  a 
Russian  bath  in  the  office  building  where  we  could  get  hot 
water  practically  whenever  we  chose.  Technically,  each  room 
was  supposed  to  go  to  the  bath  once  in  ten  days,  but  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fact  those  who  cared  to  bathe  every  day  could  go  there 
whenever  they  wanted  to.  They  very  seldom  did,  however. 
Russian  ideas  of  bathing  seem  very  peculiar  to  the  Anglo- 
Saxon.  Every  morning  they  energetically  splash  themselves 
with  cold  water  down  to  the  waist,  and  once  a  week  if  they  are 
very  fastidious,  once  a  fortnight  if  they  are  really  particular, 
and  once  a  month  if  they  are  just  ordinary  people,  they  go  to 
the  bath,  where  they  spend  hours,  scrubbing  themselves  with  a 
handful  of  vegetable  fiber  called  "mahalka,"  pouring  innum- 
erable basins  of  scalding  water  over  their  bodies,  steaming 
themselves  till  they  are  parboiled,  and  ending  with  a  cold 
douche.  They  could  never  understand  why  I  bathed  every 
day  and  only  took  ten  minutes  to  do  it. 

Every  morning  the  rising  bell  rang  at  seven,  followed 
immediately  by  the  poverk  (inspection),  when  the  naziratelnitsa 
(woman  superintendent)  counted  us  to  see  if  anybody  had  van- 
ished during  the  night.  Then  the  doors  were  opened  and  we 
were  practically  allowed  to  come  and  go  as  we  pleased.  There 
was  visiting  between  the  rooms  until  nine  in  the  evening,  when 
the  poverk  was  repeated  and  the  doors  were  locked  for  the 
night.  Some  effort  was  made  to  separate  the  political  prisoners, 
of  whom  there  were  relatively  few,  from  the  criminals.  They 
were  confined  as  nearly  as  possible  in  separate  rooms.  The 
former  were  allowed  to  exercise  in  the  yard  from  ten  to 
twelve  in  the  morning  and  from  four  to  six  in  the  afternoon. 


286  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

The  criminals  were  allowed  out  from  eight  until  ten  and  from 
six  until  bed-time  and  the  new  arrivals  who  were  kept  in 
quarantine  for  two  weeks,  took  their  exercise  between  two 
and  four  in  the  afternoon.  The  political  prisoners  with  the 
consent  of  their  examining  judges  were  allowed  to  see  their 
friends  or  relatives  at  intervals  and  peredachas  were  allowed 
every  day.  The  criminals,  subject  to  good  behavior,  were 
allowed  to  see  their  relatives  on  Sundays. 

It  was  very  amusing  to  see  the  way  they  evaded  the  authori- 
ties when  permission  was  not  forthcoming.  The  Novenski 
was  situated  half  way  down  the  slope  of  a  steep  hill,  above  it 
and  overlooking  the  prison  yard  was  a  large  church  with  a 
tall  bell  tower.  The  relatives  of  prisoners  to  whom  permission 
had  been  denied  for  a  szndanye  went  up  in  the  tower  of  the 
church  and  yelled  to  the  prisoners  in  the  yard.  This  started 
immediately  after  dinner  on  Sundays  and  continued  till  late 
in  the  afternoon.  It  began  like  this :  Ivan  Petrovitch,  whose 
sweetheart,  Olga  Nikolaievna,  had  perhaps  punched  her  room- 
mate in  the  head  that  week  and  therefore  was  not  allowed  to 
see  him,  would  take  his  stand  in  the  bell  tower  and  shout  her 
name  until  it  attracted  the  attention  of  someone  in  the  yard. 
Then  the  name  was  taken  up  and  repeated  by  the  prisoners  until 
Olga  Nikolaievna  was  found.  She  was  pushed  to  the  front 
of  the  crowd  and  then  forming  a  megaphone  with  her  hands 
she  held  long  distance  conversations  with  Ivan.  Sometimes 
eight  or  ten  of  these  conversations  went  on  at  the  same  time 
with  the  result  that  the  noise  was  simply  deafening.  Occa- 
sionally when  one  of  the  women  was  prevented  from  hearing 
what  was  said  to  her  by  her  too  vociferous  companions  a  fight 
ensued  which  usually  ended  in  somebody  getting  hysterics  and 
a  number  of  hair  pullings.  The  authorities  never  interfered 
with  these  conversations  unless  the  political  prisoners  took  part 
in  them.  On  several  occasions  this  took  place  and  their  un- 
lucky friends  in  the  bell  tower  were  promptly  arrested. 

Church  services  were  regularly  held  in  the  little  church  and 
as  the  Russian  calendar  is  nearly  entirely  composed  of  Saints' 
days,  there  was  mass  morning  and  evening  almost  every  day. 
It  was  always  crowded  and  two  women  were  appointed  every 


WHEREIN  A  JAILBIRD  TURNS  JAILER  287 

day  to  clean  the  brasses  and  sacramental  vessels.  There  were 
nearly  always  fresh  flowers  on  the  altar  contributed  by  the 
prisoners. 

We  could  get  all  the  books  we  wanted  from  the  library  be- 
hind the  church  and  I  found  there  all  the  Russian  classics, 
many  interesting  bound  volumes  of  the  best  magazines,  plenty 
of  good  French  books  and  a  few  English  and  German 
magazines  and  novels.  The  Socialists,  who  were  in  a  class  by 
themselves  and  had  special  privileges  in  certain  respects,  also 
had  the  newspapers  every  day;  and  as  I  had  many  friends 
among  them,  I  shared  all  their  interests  and  activities. 

The  Socialist  room,  which  held  twenty-four,  was  occupied 
by  Right  and  Left  Social  Revolutionaries,  Mensheviks  and 
Anarchists.  Among  them  were  many  old  party  workers  as 
well  as  a  number  of  girls  from  the  student  groups,  all  keen, 
intelligent,  alive  to  all  the  questions  of  the  day.  I  found  them 
fully  equal  to,  if  not  superior  to  the  men  of  a  corresponding 
stage  of  intellectual  and  political  development.  They  were  just 
as  courageous,  just  as  well  trained  as  party  workers,  and 
shared  equally  with  them  in  organization  and  the  more  danger- 
ous conspirative  work.  We  often  had  political  debates  in  the 
evening,  "disputes,"  the  Russians  called  them,  without  any 
appreciation  of  the  humorous  significance  of  the  word,  and  fre- 
quently brilliant  papers  were  read  on  various  aspects  of  the 
political  and  economic  situation.  At  other  times  we  had  musi- 
cal evenings,  singing  all  the  beautiful  Russian  prison  songs 
and  innumerable  folk  and  student  songs.  Several  of  the  girls 
played  the  balalaika  very  well  and  they  accompanied  the  singers, 
also  playing  music  for  the  folk  dances  which  were  often  a 
feature  of  our  impromptu  performances.  There  was  one  pret- 
ty little  Anarchist,  only  eighteen  years  old,  who  danced  Cos- 
sack dances  better  than  anyone  I've  ever  seen  off  the  stage. 
In  a  pair  of  blue  bloomers,  tucked  into  high  boots,  a  red  shirt 
and  a  black  astrakhan  cap,  with  her  bobbed  golden  hair,  she 
made  a  very  picturesque  boy,  and  her  partner  was  a  slender 
little  slip  of  a  dark  girl  who  had  been  in  prison  for  six  months 
for  complicity  in  an  alleged  Social  Revolutionary  plot,  but  had 
lost  none  of  her  high  spirits. 


288  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

Several  times  we  had  birthday  parties,  once  in  honor  of 
the  wife  of  Victor  Chernov,  leader  of  the  Right  Social  Revolu- 
tionaries, who  escaped  nearly  a  year  before  to  Esthonia.  Olga 
Alexievna  Chernova  was  first  arrested  more  than  a  year  ago 
while  her  husband  was  still  in  Moscow,  with  her  youngest 
daughter,  who  was  but  nine  years  old.  After  Chernov's 
escape  to  Esthonia  she  was  arrested  again  and  spent  over  six 
months  in  the  Butierki  prison,  where  she  was  one  of  the 
editors  of  the  prison  newspaper  gotten  out  by  the  Socialists. 
In  the  early  spring  a  riot  took  place  among  the  Socialists  in 
the  Butierki,  planned  as  a  demonstration  to  encourage  their 
comrades  still  at  liberty.  After  this  most  of  the  men  and 
many  women  were  sent  to  provincial  prisons,  where  they 
suffered  untold  hardships.  Madame  Chernova  and  several 
others  were  transferred  to  the  Novenski.  Madame  Peschkova, 
the  wife  of  Gorki,  was  much  interested  in  trying  to  obtain 
permission  for  her  and  her  children  to  leave  Russia,  but  up 
to  the  time  of  my  departure  the  Soviet  authorities  were  obsti- 
nate in  their  determination  to  hold  her  indefinitely  as  a  hostage 
for  her  husband. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  had  been  in  prison  for  nearly 
a  year  Olga  Alexievna  had  lost  none  of  her  interest  in  life.  At 
her  birthday  party  she  read  a  very  clever  poem,  "taking  off" 
each  of  the  party  groups  among  the  politicals.  We  had  a  de- 
licious supper  prepared  by  the  two  cooks  appointed  for  the 
day,  for  the  Socialists  have  a  commune  and  pool  all  their  pere- 
dachas.  It  was  followed  by  games,  speeches,  and  the  presen- 
tation to  Olga  Alexievna  of  a  number  of  prison-made  birthday 
gifts.  One  of  these  was  a  work  bag  woven  from  the  vegetable 
fiber  which  was  used  for  hand  scrubs  in  our  Russian  baths. 
On  it  was  most  artistically  applied  a  little  izha,  or  peasant's 
cottage,  made  of  twigs  picked  up  in  the  prison  yard,  with  a 
roof  of  birch  bark.  The  landscape  was  completed  by  an  artistic 
grouping  of  trees  made  from  sprigs  of  arbor  vitse  which  grew 
in  the  prison  yard. 

At  our  political  meetings  we  discussed  the  new  decrees,  of 
which  the  most  important  were  the  "Prodnalog,"  or  natural 
products  tax,  imposed  on  the  peasants  this  year  instead  of  the 


WHEREIN  A  JAILBIRD  TURNS  JAILER  289 

former  system  of  requisitioning,  the  new  wage  scale  and 
method  of  payment  for  factory  workers,  and  the  system  of 
leasing  factories  to  private  capital,  known  as  the  "Arend" 
system.  My  Social  Revolutionary  friends  believed  that  the 
government  had  by  no  means  abandoned  its  plan  of  eventually 
establishing  a  Communist  state  in  Russia,  but  they  felt  that 
the  economic  reforms  being  instituted  would  become  perma- 
nent, as  many  of  the  Communists  were  gradually  coming  to 
realize  that  they  could  not  proceed  so  far  in  advance  of  the 
rest  of  the  world,  that  Russia  could  no  longer  maintain  her 
position  alone  as  the  vanguard  of  the  Revolutionary  movement. 
She  must  give  the  rank  and  file  time  to  catch  up,  as  it  were. 

The  fact  that  no  general  amnesty  was  declared,  they 
pointed  out,  indicated  that  the  Communist  Oligarchy  was 
determined  to  hold  the  political  power  in  its  hands,  that  it  would 
be  a  long  time  before  Russia  would  be  able  to  institute  anything 
approaching  a  popular  form  of  government.  They  were  pro- 
foundly discouraged  as  to  the  outlook  for  independent  party 
activity  for  the  future,  and  for  the  most  part  bitterly  opposed 
to  the  political  activities  of  the  emigres  and  plotters  of  all  par- 
ties, outside  of  Russia,  who,  they  said,  had  done  far  more 
harm  than  good  by  their  abortive,  ill  planned  conspiracies. 
They  had  great  hopes  from  the  then  newly  formed  All-Russian 
Famine  Relief  Committee,  but  predicted  just  what  has  subse- 
quently happened,  that  unless  all  foreign  relief  was  conducted 
through  its  agency,  the  Soviet  Govermnent  would  find  a  pretext 
for  putting  it  out  of  the  way  and  arresting  its  most  influential 
members. 

The  interests  of  all  the  politicals  were  looked  after  by  the 
political  stdrosta,  or  chairman,  who  is  elected  on  the  creation 
of  a  vacancy,  and  continues  in  office  until  she  is  released  from 
prison.  Ours  was  an  extremely  keen,  energetic  Menshevik. 
It  was  her  business  to  distribute  the  peredachas  sent  by  the  Po- 
litical Red  Cross,  and  keep  a  list  of  those  eligible  for  them, 
to  give  semi-legal  advice  to  all  the  political  prisoners,  and  to 
decide  on  matters  of  discipline  and  general  policy. 

The  Political  Red  Cross,  of  which  I  have  spoken  several 
times  in  the  preceding  chapters,  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable 


290  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

organizations  in  Russia.  Despite  its  name,  it  is  absolutely- 
unpolitical  in  character.  Under  the  Czar  it  existed  as  an  ille- 
gal organization  for  the  purpose  of  giving  assistance  to  all 
political  prisoners.  Under  the  Soviet  Government  it  has  only 
a  semi-legal  status,  and  receives  no  official  support,  being 
merely  tolerated.  Its  members  consist  mainly  of  Bez  Partini, 
non-partisans.  Its  funds  are  raised  entirely  by  private  subscrip- 
tion. In  spite  of  many  handicaps  it  has  for  the  last  two  years 
sent  weekly  food  packages  to  all  the  political  prisoners  in 
Moscow  with  the  exception  of  those  in  the  Checka.  There  it 
is  only  permitted  to  send  collective  per e dachas  to  be  distributed 
to  all  prisoners  alike,  on  Soviet  or  church  holidays.  In  the 
other  prisons  its  representatives  are  allowed  to  visit  the  politi- 
cals periodically.  In  addition  to  providing  food  the  Red  Cross 
supplies  clothing  and  medicine  and  other  necessaries  to  the 
prisoners.  It  also  supplies  counsel  and  legal  advice  to  persons 
whose  cases  are  about  to  come  up  for  trial,  furnishes  funds  and 
transportation  to  discharged  prisoners  who  have  been  brought 
to  Moscow  from  a  distance  and  have  no  means  of  getting  back 
to  their  homes,  conducts  a  bureau  of  information  to  supply  in- 
formation to  the  relatives  of  many  persons  who  have  been 
arrested  and  apparently  disappeared,  as  to  their  whereabouts  or 
their  fate.  The  Political  Red  Cross  also  looks  after  all  foreign 
nationals  detained  as  prisoners,  who  are  not  being  provided  for 
by  their  own  countrymen. 

The  Anarchists  while  in  prison  received  regular  peredachas 
from  their  comrades,  who  had  organized  what  was  known  as 
the  "Black  Cross."  It  was  to  me  a  very  curious  and  signifi- 
cant fact  that  they  should  have  chosen  this  name  for  their  or- 
ganization. Acknowledging  no  code  of  laws,  human  or  divine, 
they  could  find  no  better  symbol  for  humanitarian  work  than 
the  symbol  of  the  Cross.  On  several  occasions  the  Anarchists' 
peredachas  were  very  wonderful,  containing  chocolate,  coffee, 
jam,  and  other  unheard-of  luxuries.  At  the  same  time  an 
account  was  published  in  the  papers  of  a  mysterious  robbery  of 
one  of  the  government  stores.  I  was  told  by  several  persons 
who  knew  that  the  peredachas  of  the  Anarchists  came  from 
this  source. 


WHEREIN  A  JAILBIRD  TURNS  JAILER  291 

Most  of  the  Socialists  were  a  very  cheerful  lot.  Few  of 
them  were  facing  serious  charges,  nearly  all  being  held  in 
accordance  with  the  general  policy  recently  adopted  by  Lenin 
of  keeping  all  the  leaders  of  opposition  parties  under  lock  and 
key,  but  occasionally  we  were  brought  face  to  face  with  the  real 
thing,  as  in  the  case  of  a  friend  of  mine,  who,  with  her  hus- 
band, was  accused  of  complicity  in  the  Siberian  peasant  rebel- 
lion last  February.  They  were  taken  to  Omsk  for  trial.  An- 
other was  the  tragic  case  of  a  young  woman  physician,  a  Left 
Social  Revolutionary,  who  had  been  tried  and  condemned  to 
death  in  Kharkov  and  was  brought  to  Moscow  for  retrial  in 
a  dying  condition  from  tuberculosis.  A  particularly  pathetic 
feature  of  her  story  was  that  she  had  been  living  in  safety 
in  Switzerland  at  the  beginning  of  the  Revolution,  and  volun- 
tarily came  to  Russia,  aflame  with  Revolutionary  ideals,  eager 
to  help  in  the  regeneration  of  her  country.  There  are  many 
like  her,  real  Revolutionaries  at  heart,  who  are  sacrificed  by  the 
inexorable  Juggernaut  they  have  set  in  motion. 

I  did  not  stay  long  in  the  "otdelenye,"  as  the  main  section 
of  the  prison  is  called.  My  cough  grew  steadily  worse,  I  had 
a  constant  temperature,  and  the  prison  physician  decided  that 
I  should  be  removed  to  the  hospital. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 
PRISON  DE  LUXE 

In  the  hospital  I  slept  in  a  real  bed  for  the  first  time  in 
more  than  eight  months.  It  was  a  pretty  decrepit  bed,  and 
had  a  straw  pallet  instead  of  a  mattress,  but  it  was  a  bed  for  all 
that.  The  hospital  diet,  too,  was  far  better  than  that  in  the 
prison  proper. 

In  the  morning  we  received  three-quarters  of  a  pound  of 
bread,  two  lumps  of  sugar  or  a  small  portion  of  honey,  about 
half  an  ounce  of  butter,  margarine  or  lard,  three  teaspoons ful 
of  Soviet  coffee,  occasionally  a  tablespoonful  of  salted  caviar, 
and  every  other  day  a  handful  of  dried  apples.  The  usual 
herring  soup  was  often  replaced  by  a  meat  broth,  the  second 
dish  at  our  noonday  meal  was  rice  or  mannaya  kasha,  a  cereal 
similar  to  our  cream  of  wheat,  and  we  were  given  a  good-sized 
portion  of  South  American  corned  beef  several  times  a  week. 

The  doctor  was  a  most  intelligent  and  sympathetic  woman 
and  the  nurses  were  kindness  itself.  The  dispensary  was  woe- 
fully lacking  in  medicines  and  supplies,  but  it  was  remarkable 
how  well  the  staff  managed  with  next  to  nothing.  For  ex- 
ample, there  were  two  hypodermic  needles  and  one  syringe. 
With  this  equipment  two  hundred  and  forty-eight  prisoners 
received  the  necessary  cholera  inoculations  within  three  weeks, 
and  I  and  a  number  of  other  prisoners  were  given  daily  injec- 
tions of  arsenic.  We  had  only  one  clinical  thermometer,  but 
the  temperature  of  every  patient  was  taken  twice  daily.  Num- 
bers of  prisoners  not  hospital  patients  received  dispensary 
treatment  or  hospital  rations,  and  there  was  a  good  dental 
clinic  once  a  week. 

After  all  I  had  been  through,  the  Novenski  hospital,  for  all 
its  deficiencies,  was  a  haven  of  rest.  There  were  only  three  of 
us  in  the  cheerful  little  room  I  occupied,  myself,  a  Polish  lady 

2Q2 


PRISON  DE  LUXE  293 

who  was  accused  of  espionage,  and  our  nianka,  or  attendant, 
a  ruddy-faced  buxom  peasant  girl  as  innocent  looking  as  a 
baby.  She  was  up  for  the  third  time,  the  first  offense  being 
the  receiving  of  stolen  goods,  the  second  hiding  a  deserter,  and 
the  last,  for  which  she  was  serving  only  a  three-year  sentence, 
for  being  an  accessory  to  the  murder  of  her  own  sister  by  her 
brother-in-law,  whom  she  afterwards  married.  He  was  her 
second  husband,  the  first  having  been  killed  in  the  war.  A 
large  framed  lithograph  of  the  latter  adorned  the  wall  of  our 
room.  In  one  corner  of  it  was  stuck  a  photograph  of  the 
former.  She  was  lazy  and  an  incorrigible  thief,  but  kind- 
hearted,  generous  and  impulsive.  If  we  missed  anything  and 
remarked  about  it  she  would  get  down  on  her  knees  before  the 
ikon  in  the  corner,  weeping  copiously  and  howling  like  a  der- 
vish, declaring  that  she  had  never  taken  as  much  as  a  kopeck's 
worth  from  anyone.  At  the  same  time  if  she  had  anything 
good  to  eat  she  always  insisted  that  we  should  share  it  with 
her,  and  I  couldn't  help  being  fond  of  her  in  spite  of  everything. 
The  attendants  in  the  other  two  rooms  of  the  hospital,  one  of 
which  held  twelve,  the  other  six  persons,  were  both  professional 
thieves,  one  a  railroad  station  pickpocket,  the  other  a  "Ma- 
dam" who  made  a  business  of  robbing  her  clients. 

I  was  allowed  absolute  liberty  in  the  hospital,  with  per- 
mission to  spend  the  entire  day  in  the  yard  if  I  chose,  and  I 
found  talking  to  the  criminals  and  studying  their  psychology 
a  fascinating  occupation. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  types  was  Kousina,  the  queen 
of  the  Moscow  Apaches,  who  had  the  record  of  having  been 
arrested  twenty-eight  times,  and  of  having  served  several 
terms  in  prison,  though  she  was  only  twenty-three  years  old. 
She  had  twice  escaped  from  prison.  Her  third  attempt  was 
an  unsuccessful  but  almost  extraordinary  performance.  Find- 
ing the  Novenski  a  difficult  place  to  get  out  of,  she  simulated 
insanity,  with  perfect  success,  and  was  sent  to  a  hospital  for 
the  criminal  insane.  It  proved  just  as  hard  to  escape  from  as 
the  Novenski,  so  she  turned  sane  again,  and  demanded  to  be 
sent  back  there.  Being  refused,  she  resolved  on  what  is  known 
in  prison  as  obstruction,  but  her  method  was  unusual,  to  say  the 


294  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW: 

least,  and  certainly  showed  a  great  deal  of  physical  courage 
and  determination.  She  put  a  wad  of  newspaper  on  her  chest, 
set  fire  to  it  and  burned  herself  most  horribly.  "If  you  don't 
send  me  back,  I'll  do  something  worse  next  time,"  she  said, 
and  she  was  returned  to  the  Novenski. 

She  absolutely  ruled  the  other  criminals,  they  quailed  be- 
fore her  and  she  was  merciless  in  punishing  those  who  violated 
the  prison  code  of  ethics.  Once  she  led  a  mob  against  a  woman 
who  was  suspected  of  being  a  nasyetka  (spy),  and  they  beat 
her  until  she  was  rescued  almost  unconscious  by  the  prison 
guards.  She  would  never  steal  from  anyone  in  prison,  but  her 
example  was  followed  by  few  of  the  others.  Stealing  was 
the  universal  rule.  The  prisoners  stole  from  the  prison  kitchen, 
from  the  workshop,  where  they  made  clothes  on  government 
contracts,  and  received  half  a  pound  of  bread  extra  a  day 
in  payment,  and  they  also  stole  from  each  other.  Thefts,  if 
discovered,  were  punished  by  beatings,  face  scratchings  and 
hair-pullings,  but  the  thieves  were  never  informed  on,  even  by 
the  attendants,  for  most  of  them  stole  too  if  they  got  the 
chance.    Nothing  was  safe. 

Once  I  took  my  bedding  roll  out  into  the  yard  to  air, 
spread  it  on  the  grass,  and  sat  down  on  a  bench  beside  it  to 
read.  Two  girls  were  lying  in  the  grass  near  me,  very  inno- 
cently it  seemed.  I  did  not  notice  that  they  moved,  but  when 
I  got  up  to  go  in  the  house  I  found  that  the  canvas  sheet  which 
covered  the  pad  had  been  torn  off  near  the  top  and  carried 
away.  I  afterwards  saw  slippers  made  of  it  being  sold  for  a 
bread  ration. 

A  flourishing  trade  was  always  going  on  inside  the  prison, 
not  only  in  stolen  articles,  but  in  food  brought  in  from  the 
outside,  and  it  was  possible  to  buy  almost  everything  for  money, 
also  smuggled  in,  or  for  bread.  Twenty-five  cigarettes  cost 
one  bread  ration,  ten  fresh  eggs  cost  three  bread  rations,  and 
you  could  have  your  laundry  done  for  two. 

Other  clandestine  vices  flourished  too.  Although  cards 
were  forbidden,  there  were  plenty  of  decks,  and  gambling  was 
universal.  The  women  gambled  away  their  bread  rations,  their 
peredachas,  their  clothing  even.     One  woman  I  knew  lost 


PRISON  DE  LUXE  295 

everything  she  had  in  one  night,  except  her  chemise,  and  the 
next  morning  she  was  compelled  to  get  one  of  the  prison 
dresses  to  wear.  Unnatural  forms  of  prostitution  were  also 
common. 

I  don't  know  whether  it  is  the  case  with  a  similar  class  of 
criminals  in  other  countries,  but  most  of  those  I  met  seemed  to 
take  a  personal  pride  in  their  achievements.  There  were  few 
who  pretended  to  be  either  innocent  or  repentant,  though  most 
of  them  were  very  religious  and  attended  church  assiduously. 

The  speculators  formed  a  class  all  to  themselves.  Most  of 
them  were  sordid  and  uninteresting,  but  there  were  a  few  pic- 
turesque characters,  such  as  a  brilliant  woman  engineer  who 
had  embezzled  millions  from  the  Supreme  Economic  Council, 
had  been  condemned  to  death,  reprieved  and  finally  sentenced 
to  ten  years  in  prison;  and  a  young  girl,  who  with  several 
confederates  had  robbed  the  railroad  administration  of  tons 
of  supplies.  She  was  such  a  capable  executive,  however,  that 
she  had  charge  of  giving  out  all  the  supplies  for  the  hospital. 

The  most  attractive  inmates,  for  they  could  scarcely  be 
called  prisoners,  were  the  children.  There  were  at  least  twenty 
of  them;  from  babies  in  arms  to  sturdy  little  boys  and  girls 
four  or  five  years  old.  Many  of  them  had  been  born  in  prison, 
others  had  been  brought  there  with  their  mothers,  the  Soviet 
Government  permitting  them  to  keep  their  babies  with  them, 
if  desired,  until  they  reach  the  school  age.  From  the  point  of 
view  of  the  morale  of  the  mothers  it  is  an  excellent  thing, 
enabling  them  to  lead  something  approaching  a  normal  life,  and 
the  children  do  not  fare  badly  by  any  means.  They  were  given 
a  special  ration  similar  to  our  hospital  ration,  but  with  more 
fats ;  children  up  to  two  years  of  age  received  milk  daily. 

They  were  subjected  to  periodical  medical  inspection,  and 
when  ill  were  sent  to  a  nearby  children's  clinic  for  treatment. 
Nearly  all  were  rosy  and  healthy,  and  it  was  great  fun  to  play 
with  them  in  the  yard.  One,  a  small  boy  four  years  old,  was 
a  great  chum  of  mine,  and  he  always  called  me  by  the  name 
by  which  I  was  known  to  the  criminals — the  "Afrikanka." 
Popular  ideas  as  to  geography  and  nationality  are  somewhat 
hazy  in  Russia.     I  was  the  only  foreigner,  and  when  I  first 


296  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

arrived  there  were  many  speculations  as  to  my  nationality. 
One  of  the  prisoners  who  had  played  in  vaudeville  with  a 
troupe  of  negro  minstrels  announced  that  I  had  come  from 
the  same  country.  They  were  Africans,  therefore  I  must  be 
an  African,  too,  in  spite  of  the  slight  difference  in  complexion. 
The  name  stuck,  notwithstanding  all  my  explanations. 

Amusements  were  not  altogether  lacking  in  our  prison  rou- 
tine. There  was  a  dramatic  club,  which  gave  performances 
of  classic  comedies  nearly  every  Sunday.  The  government 
furnished  the  members  a  fixed  monthly  sum  for  the  purpose  of 
buying  stage  properties  and  make-ups.  Occasionally  we  had 
a  concert  with  outside  artists  from  the  best  theaters,  and  there 
were  often  impromptu  dances  in  the  prison  yard. 

There  were  also  two  social  service  workers,  who  super- 
vised the  giving  out  of  books  from  the  library,  distributed 
mail  to  prisoners  and  conducted  several  classes  for  illiterates. 
The  pohtical  prisoners  were  barred  from  taking  part  in  the 
official  amusements  and  activities  of  the  prisoners.  I  think 
the  government  was  afraid  they  might  contaminate  the  crim- 
inals. 

The  prison  kitchen  was  one  of  the  most  popular  places. 
From  early  morning  till  late  evening  it  was  filled  with 
women  of  all  descriptions,  who  were  allowed  to  do  their  own 
cooking.  I  often  went  there  to  make  tea  or  prepare  some 
special  dish  for  myself.  Everybody  stood  around  the  stove, 
keeping  an  eagle  eye  on  her  own  skillet  or  saucepan.  If  you 
turned  your  head  for  an  instant  you  might  find  it  had  disap- 
peared. Some  of  the  dishes  I  saw  cooked  there  were  perfectly 
wonderful.  One  woman  had  twenty  pounds  of  white  flour 
sent  to  her  and  she  made  rolls,  jam  turnovers  and  tarts  galore. 
Other  women  made  delicious  soups  and  ragouts  and  all  the 
mothers  prepared  special  food  for  their  babies.  It  was  well 
to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  in  the  kitchen,  for  fights  often  occurred. 
Once  I  narrowly  escaped  being  hit  by  a  potful  of  hot  soup 
that  was  thrown  by  one  woman  at  another  one  just  behind  me. 
The  privilege  of  using  the  kitchen  was  one  that  I  greatly 
appreciated,  for  it  was  often  possible  to  make  very  palatable 
dishes,  even  out  of  the  regular  prison  rations. 


PRISON  DE  LUXE  297 

Among  the  prisoners  was  a  small  group  of  women  the 
reason  for  whose  detention  I  could  never  understand.  With  the 
exception  of  one,  Mademoiselle  Sheremetieva,  a  lady  of  distin- 
guished family,  who  belonged  to  an  affiliated  organization, 
they  were  all  members  of  the  Salvation  Army.  They  were  very 
simple  women,  absolutely  devoid  of  political  ideas,  but  they 
were  accused  of  having  been  the  tools  of  counter-revolutionary 
organizations,  just  how  had  never  been  explained  to  them. 
The  opposition  of  the  Communists  to  the  established  church  on 
the  grounds  that  it  has  always  been  used  as  a  means  for  the 
enslavement  of  the  masses,  is  perfectly  understandable  from 
their  point  of  view,  but  to  anyone  who  knows  the  purely  unpo- 
litical and  essentially  proletarian  character  of  the  Salvation 
Army  the  world  over,  the  arrest  of  its  members  on  these 
grounds  appears  positively  fantastic.  The  Salvation  Armyites 
held  a  song  service  in  one  of  the  rooms  in  the  "otdelenye" 
nearly  every  evening,  and  it  often  made  me  very  homesick  to 
hear  the  familiar  melodies,  such  as  "Onward  Christian  Sol- 
diers," "Throw  Out  the  Lifeline,"  and  many  others  sung  in 
such  a  strange  environment. 

So  far  I  have  described  the  better  side  of  our  prison  life, 
and  the  more  fortunate  of  the  prisoners,  but  there  was  a  very 
dark  side  indeed.  The  Novenski  is  used  as  a  concentration 
point  for  prisoners  in  transit  to  internment  camps,  most  of 
them  what  are  known  as  Counter-Revolutionaries,  and  hun- 
dreds pass  through  every  month  on  their  way  to  distant  points. 
It  seems  to  be  the  policy  of  the  Soviet  Government  to  send  those 
sentenced  to  internment  as  far  away  from  their  homes  as  pos- 
sible, which  inevitably  brings  about  unnecessary  hardships. 
Families  are  often  separated  in  a  manner  recalling  the  Ger- 
man deportations  from  Lille  during  the  Great  War;  those 
interned  are  cut  off  from  the  possibility  of  receiving  food 
supplies  from  their  relatives  still  at  liberty;  delicate  persons 
accustomed  to  the  warm  climate  of  Southern  Russia  are  sent 
to  the  far  North. 

There  were  a  number  of  women  from  the  Crimea,  arrested 
as  the  aftermath  of  Wrangel's  collapse,  who  were  being  sent 
to  Archangel.     Several  of  them  were  old  ladies  over  seventy. 


298  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

One,  who  was  the  widow  of  a  general,  had  been  arrested  be- 
cause her  name  had  been  found  on  a  Hst  of  subscribers  to  the 
food  cooperatives  which  existed  under  the  Wrangel  regime. 
Prisoners  from  Kiev  and  the  Ukraine  were  on  their  way  to 
Yaroslav.  One  day  a  mother  with  seven  children,  the  youngest 
a  two-year-old  boy,  the  oldest  a  girl  of  seventeen  years,  ar- 
rived from  Rostov  en  route  for  Perm.  The  entire  family  was 
being  deported  because  the  mother  had  hidden  her  son,  who 
had  been  with  the  White  Armies.  The  boy  was  found  in  the 
house  and  shot,  the  father  had  escaped  and  his  wife  had  no 
idea  as  to  his  whereabouts  or  his  fate. 

In  justice  to  the  Soviet  Government,  however,  it  must  be 
stated  that  all  cases  are  reviewed  in  Moscow  before  the  pris- 
oners are  sent  on  to  their  destination,  with  the  result  that 
some  are  released  and  sent  back  to  their  homes. 

We  also  had  a  number  of  prisoners  who  had  been  con- 
demned to  death  in  the  provincial  Checkas  on  absolutely  in- 
sufficient evidence.  These  were  mostly  espionage  cases  from 
White  Russia  or  the  Ukraine,  and  they  had  been  rescued  from 
death  in  the  nick  of  time  by  inspectors  from  the  Central  Office 
of  the  Extraordinary  Commission,  who  periodically  visit  the 
provincial  prisons.  Two  young  girls  who  had  been  saved  in 
this  manner  had  been  condemned  to  death  without  trial  at 
Moghilev  on  the  testimony  of  a  single  individual,  that  they 
had  been  friendly  with  members  of  the  Polish  Commission 
at  Vitebsk,  and  had  spent  a  month  in  a  condemned  cell  from 
which  prisoners  were  taken  nightly  to  be  shot.  They  told  me 
that  every  night  before  going  to  bed  they  put  on  clean  clothes 
so  that  they  might  die  decently. 

I  was  told  by  many  of  these  prisoners  that  the  food  in  most 
provincial  prisons  was  utterly  inadequate  and  prepared  with- 
out the  slightest  regard  for  ordinary  rules  of  hygiene.  In 
many  of  the  provincial  prisons  they  got  nothing  but  half  a 
pound  of  bread  a  day  and  one  bowl  of  soup.  Men  and  women 
were  kept  in  the  same  rooms,  prisoners  were  often  beaten  by 
the  guards.  A  Polish  lady  who  came  from  Rostov  told  me 
that  her  husband  had  been  shot  two  weeks  after  the  signing 
of  the  treaty  with  Poland.     Some  of  the  prisoners  from  the 


PRISON  DE  LUXE  299 

provinces  had  been  held  for  six  or  eight  months  simply  be- 
cause their  papers  had  been  lost.  Such  conditions  frequently 
exist  in  the  "Gub  Checkas,"  as  the  provincial  Checkas  are  called. 
There  much  depends  on  the  character  of  the  individual  com- 
missar or  sledovatl.  Some  of  them  are  utterly  unfit  for  their 
jobs,  others  are  very  humane.  I  knew  a  Polish  woman  who 
told.me  that  her  life  had  been  saved  by  her  sledovatl  at  Vitebsk, 
The  head  of  the  local  Checka  was  anxious  to  clean  up  the  con- 
gestion of  the  prison  and  ordered  a  number  of  persons  shot, 
herself  among  them,  but  the  sledovatl  insisted  that  he  had  not 
sufficiently  looked  into  her  case,  and  managed  to  hold  it  over 
by  a  series  of  dopros  until  the  arrival  of  the  agents  of  the 
Extraordinary  Commission  from  Moscow.  The  government 
is  doing  all  in  its  power  to  control  this  sort  of  thing,  but  so  far 
it  has  only  been  partially  successful. 

Among  the  transients  were  numbers  of  immigrants  from 
White  Russia  and  Poland  who  wished  to  resume  their  Rus- 
sian citizenship,  and  had  crossed  the  frontier  without  papers 
or  credentials.  Many  of  them  were  destitute  and  virtually 
starving.  Some  had  relatives  in  distant  parts  of  Russia,  others 
had  simply  wandered  East  from  the  war-devastated  regions  in 
search  of  work  and  food.  The  majority  of  these  were  soon 
sent  to  their  destinations  or  to  parts  of  the  country  where  liv- 
ing ^conditions  are  comparatively  good,  under  the  supervision 
of  the  Commissariat  of  Labor. 

Altogether  life  in  the  Novenski  was  bearable  and  quite  in- 
teresting. I  had  many  good  friends  among  the  prisoners  and 
on  the  prison  stafif,  only  one  member  of  which,  by  the  way,  as 
far  as  I  could  discover,  was  a  Communist.  During  my  stay 
there  I  had  two  visits  from  my  sledovatl,  the  head  of  the 
American  bureau  of  the  Checka,  the  first  shortly  after  my 
arrival  when  he  came  to  inquire  as  to  my  health,  and  to  see  if 
I  was  in  need  of  anything.  Several  times  I  asked  for  money 
to  buy  milk  and  eggs,  and  for  the  rest  of  my  baggage,  which 
had  been  sealed  on  my  arrest,  but  this  request  was  never 
granted.  I  had  everything  I  needed,  however,  for  my  wants 
were  cared  for  by  my  Russian  friends,  to  whom  I  shall  always 
owe  an  undying  debt  of  gratitude. 


CHAPTER  XXX 
RELEASE  NUMBER  2961 

By  the  middle  of  July  we  had  begun  to  realize  from  ac- 
counts in  the  papers  that  the  famine  situation  was  so  serious 
that  the  Soviet  Government  would  be  utterly  unable  to  cope 
with  it,  and  all  my  friends  insisted  that  it  would  not  be  long 
before  I  was  released  from  prison.  "Russia  must  accept  help 
from  foreign  governments,"  they  said,  "and  the  first  condi- 
tion for  relief  from  America,  will,  of  course,  be  the  release  of 
all  prisoners."  I  had  begun  to  have  faint  hopes,  but  I  dared 
not  acknowledge  them  even  to  myself.  They  had  been  stirred 
by  the  fact  that  Royal  R.  Keeley  had  been  released  from  prison 
and  I  had,  a  week  or  so  previously,  received  a  small  peredacha 
from  him,  with  a  message  that  he  was  well,  stating  that  he 
would  try  to  get  permission  to  see  me.  This  permission  was 
not  granted,  nor  was  a  note  which  he  wrote  delivered  to  me, 
but  the  fact  that  he  had  been  released  pointed  to  a  more  lenient 
attitude  towards  foreigners. 

Then  one  day,  July  twenty-third,  to  be  exact,  the  very 
day,  though  neither  he  nor  I  knew  it  at  the  time,  of  the  receipt 
of  the  Hoover  offer  on  behalf  of  the  American  Relief  Admin- 
istration, I  had  my  first  visit  from  anyone  not  a  Soviet  offi- 
cial, in  more  than  nine  months.  It  was  from  Senator  Joseph 
I.  France,  of  Maryland,  my  own  state,  of  whose  presence  in 
Moscow  I  was  not  even  aware,  until  I  met  him  face  to  face. 
Senator  France,  who  had  been  in  Moscow  for  some  weeks, 
had  made  repeated  efforts  to  see  me,  and  had  interceded  with 
Chicherin  and  Lenin  on  my  behalf,  though,  up  to  that  time, 
without  any  prospect  of  success.  He  had  done  this  at  the  risk 
of  considerable  unpleasantness  to  himself  as  one  of  the  condi- 
tions upon  which  he  obtained,  through  the  influence  of  German 
friends  in  Berlin,  permission  to  visit  Moscow,  was  that  he 

300 


RELEASE  NUMBER  2961  301 

should  not  meddle  with  the  question  of  the  American  prisoners. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  1  had  a  summons  to  go  to  the  Com- 
mandant's office.  There  I  found  Kovalski,  head  of  the 
American  Bureau  of  the  Checka. 

"I  have  brought  you  a  visitor,"  he  said;  "I  think  you  will 
be  rather  surprised  to  see  who  he  is."  At  the  same  time  he 
threw  open  the  door  of  an  inner  room  with  a  fine  dramatic 
gesture,  and  I  saw  standing  before  me  a  tall  man  in  a  suit 
of  real  American  clothes.  It  was  curious  that  I  should  have 
noticed  the  clothes  first,  but  I  did,  and  then  I  recognized  in- 
side of  them  Senator  France,  with  whose  appearance  I  was 
familiar  from  his  pictures  in  the  newspapers,  though  I  had 
never  before  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  him. 

For  a  moment  I  was  dazed — then  came  two  curiously  in- 
consequent thoughts,  both  of  which  I  dismissed  immediately. 
The  first  was,  "Heavens,  has  the  Senator  run  amuck  and 
turned  Bolshevik?"  The  next,  "Perhaps,  oh,  perhaps,  he  has 
come  to  take  me  home." 

Meanwhile  I  heard  myself  in  a  far-away  voice  asking  him 
quite  composedly  when  he  had  arrived  in  Russia  and  where  he 
was  staying,  casually  as  if  we  had  met  in  the  Senate  Lobby 
at  Washington.  But  Senator  France  went  straight  to  the 
point,  telling  me  in  a  few  words  that  he  had  seen  Lenin,  Chi- 
cherin  and  Litvinov  about  my  case,  that  they  had  until  that 
morning  given  no  encouragement,  but  that  they  now  showed 
signs  of  relenting,  and  that  if  all  went  well,  he  might  be  able 
to  take  me  home  with  him  on  the  following  Monday.  Our 
talk  was  short,  but  I  managed  to  get  some  news  from  him  and 
to  give  him  a  number  of  messages  for  friends  and  relatives 
at  home. 

After  his  departure  and  until  Monday  afternoon  I  did  a 
great  deal  of  thinking,  all  of  which  as  it  turned  out,  I  might 
have  spared  myself.  At  first  I  was  inclined  to  refuse  to  leave, 
even  if  he  should  be  able  to  secure  permission  to  take  me  with 
him,  because  I  felt  that  I  wished  to  remain  in  Russia  until  all 
the  other  prisoners  were  released.  Then  my  Russian  friends 
told  me  that  it  was  quixotic  and  unpractical  to  have  such  no- 
tions— that  if  I  got  out  of  Russia  I  could  do  mi>ch  to  get  the 


302  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

other  prisoners  out,  and  that  I  would  be  insane  to  voluntarily 
stay  behind,  where  I  could  do  them  no  good  whatever.  I  was 
still  weighing  the  matter  in  my  mind  when  Monday  came  and 
went,  without  any  word  from  Senator  France.  "There  you 
see,  fate  has  decided  it  for  me  anyway,"  I  said  to  my  room 
mate,  and  I  resolutely  put  the  idea  of  freedom  out  of  my 
mind,  and  returned  to  prison  routine. 

On  Wednesday  evening,  July  twenty-seventh,  I  was  feeling 
rather  ill,  and  was  going  to  bed  early,  about  ten  o'clock,  when 
Kovalski  appeared  alone  and  ordered  me  to  pack  my  bags  and 
accompany  him  to  the  Checka,  saying  that  my  case  would  be 
brought  up  for  trial  in  the  morning,  but  not  hinting  at  the 
probable  outcome.  The  nurse  in  the  hospital  refused  to  let  me 
go  out  at  night  as  I  had  a  temperature  at  the  time,  so  Koval- 
ski left,  saying  that  he  would  return  the  next  morning  at  nine 
o'clock.  I  was  just  about  to  turn  in  half  an  hour  later  when 
the  door  was  abruptly  thrown  open,  admitting  two  prison 
guards  and  a  woman  attendant,  who  searched  me  and  my  be- 
longings without  a  word  of  explanation,  examining  everything 
including  my  pillow  and  mattress  most  minutely,  and  taking 
every  scrap  of  written  or  printed  matter  in  my  possession, 
among  which,  much  to  my  regret,  were  the  lovely  prison  songs 
I  had  been  collecting  and  writing  down  with  such  interest 
during  long  months  in  the  Checka. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  I  gasped,  when  I  had  recovered 
from  my  astonishment,  for  though  an  ohiiisk,  as  the  searches 
are  called,  are  frequent  in  the  Checka,  they  are  rare  at  the 
Novenski,  and  I  had  done  nothing  to  cause  suspicion. 

"It  means  that  you  will  be  deported  tomorrow,"  said  one 
of  the  soldiers,  a  genial  looking  chap,  with  a  broad  kindly 
grin.  At  this  the  other,  a  severe  looking  personage  in  a  black 
leather  coat,  annihilated  him  with  a  look,  and  I  was  unable 
to  extract  anything  more  from  him. 

For  the  rest  of  the  night  sleep  was  impossible.  I  spent 
most  of  the  time  talking  to  my  room  mate,  Pani  Franziska,  a 
dear  elderly  Polish  lady. 

The  next  morning  I  got  up  early  and  packed  all  my  be- 
longings, but  the  entire  forenoon  passed  without  a  word  from 


RELEASE  NUMBER  2961  303 

the  Checka.  This  did  not  surprise  me,  as  I  was  by  this  time 
thoroughly  accustomed  to  Russian  dilatoriness,  I  spent  the 
morning  talking  with  my  intimate  friends.  My  best  friend 
was  a  Jewish  woman  who  had  been  kindness  itself  to  me.  We 
had  first  been  together  in  the  Checka,  and  afterwards  met  at 
the  Novenski.  When  I  arrived  there  I  was  utterly  unable  to 
eat  the  prison  food,  and  it  was  thanks  to  her  that  I  managed 
to  get  back  my  strength.  She  received  peredachas  twice  a 
week  from  her  family,  and  always  shared  everything  with  me, 
even  going  to  the  extent  of  writing  home  and  ordering  sent 
her  the  dishes  she  thought  would  tempt  my  appetite.  She 
provided  me  with  toilet  articles,  linen  sheets,  soap,  a  real 
knife  and  fork  and  a  glass  to  drink  out  of  instead  of  the  tin 
cup  I  had  used  so  long.  She  was  one  of  the  most  delightful 
persons  I  have  ever  met,  and  we  spent  many  hours  together, 
talking  of  art,  literature  and  many  other  subjects.  She  was 
tremendously  interested  in  Russian  art,  particularly  the  old 
ikons  of  which  she  had  made  an  exhaustive  study.  In  addition 
she  was  simple  goodness  and  honor  personified.  In  politics 
she  was  what  is  known  as  Bez  Partini,  but  she  had  been  ar- 
rested and  held  in  prison  for  four  months  as  a  witness.  Her 
continued  detention  was  owing  to  the  fact  that  she  refused  to 
give  testimony  which  she  felt  might  be  damaging  to  other 
people  in  whose  activities  she  had  had  no  share.  Most  of 
my  other  friends  were  Social  Revolutionaries,  but  I  had  one 
who  was  an  Anarchist  and  another  who  was  a  Menshevik. 

I  visited  nearly  all  of  the  rooms  in  turn,  saying  good-bye  to 
my  friends  among  the  criminals,  who  wished  me  luck,  and 
suddenly  I  realized  that  a  very  close  tie  was  about  to  be  broken. 
Prison  friendships  are  about  the  most  real  things  in  the  world. 
People  know  each  other  as  they  are,  without  hypocrisy  or 
concealment,  and  if  they  grow  to  care  for  each  other  under 
such  conditions  it  is  something  that  lasts. 

For  some  time  before  the  motor  came  to  take  me  to  the 
Checka,  which  was  not  until  early  afternoon,  we  sat  in  my 
room,  talking  of  past  good  times,  making  plans  as  to  how  I 
was  to  let  them  know  if  I  was  transferred  to  another  prison, 
wondering  as  to  when  or  where  we  would  meet  again,  for  we 


304  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

were  quite  sure  that  we  would  somehow.  Then,  when  the 
attendant  came  to  tell  me  that  the  motor  had  arrived,  we  all 
sat  down,  and  for  a  minute  there  was  silence,  in  accordance 
with  the  beautiful  Russian  custom  of  thus  wishing  godspeed 
to  anyone  who  is  about  to  set  out  on  a  long  journey.  Finally 
the  stillness  was  broken  by  Pani  Franziska,  my  Polish  room 
mate,  who  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  my  forehead.  "God 
bless  you,  my  child,"  she  said  brokenly.  It  was  hard  for  her 
to  see  me  go,  perhaps  to  freedom,  for  she  had  been  in  prison 
for  fourteen  months  on  a  baseless  charge  of  espionage,  later 
disproved  and  she  had  been  promised  repatriation  over  two 
months  before,  but  her  papers  had  never  been  received  by  the 
Polish  Repatriation  Commission  from  the  Checka.  At  the 
last  I  was  nearly  smothered  under  an  avalanche  of  hugs  and 
kisses,  and  deafened  with  the  chorus  of  cheery  Vsyo  horo- 
schos,  which  meant  literally  "All's  well,"  and  Dos  zddanye, 
the  Russian  for  Au  revoir,  from  half  the  inmates  of  the 
prison,  who  accompanied  me  to  the  door  of  the  Command- 
ant's office,  and  peeped  through  the  bars  of  his  window  to  wave 
their  hands  in  a  last  greeting.  In  spite  of  my  hopes  as  to 
what  the  future  had  in  store  for  me,  it  was  hard  to  say  good- 
bye to  my  Russian  friends,  to  whom  I  could  from  the  bottom 
of  my  heart  apply  that  much  abused  word — Tovarischi — 
comrades. 

I  found  Kovalski  waiting  for  me  in  the  motor.  He  told 
me  that  if  all  went  well  he  hoped  to  have  good  news  for  me 
later,  but  nothing  more.  On  arriving  at  the  Checka  I  was 
taken  to  the  pridzwriteini,  a  detention  room  on  the  ground 
floor  where  prisoners  awaiting  commitment  or  cross-examina- 
tion are  often  held  for  several  days.  It  was  a  long  narrow 
room,  filled  with  the  wooden  beds  I  have  already  described, 
but  without  the  straw  pallets  given  out  to  the  regular  pris- 
oners, and  it  was  packed  with  homogeneous  mass  of  human- 
ity, men  and  women  of  all  classes  and  nationalities.  People 
were  lying  two  on  a  bed,  and  one  enterprising  individual  had 
gone  to  sleep  on  a  shelf  high  up  on  the  wall.  It  was  inde- 
scribably dirty,  and  there  was  only  one  window  which  afforded 
utterly  inadequate  ventilation  for  so  many  people. 


REJLEASE  NUMBER  2961  305 

There,  much  to  my  surprise  I  met  two  acquaintances.  One 
was  a  woman  whom  I  had  known  at  the  Novenski,  She  was 
dying  of  tuberculosis,  and  literally  fighting  for  every  breath 
in  the  close  atmosphere.  In  spite  of  her  serious  condition,  she 
had  been  kept  for  three  days,  waiting  for  her  dopros.  The 
other  was  a  Frenchman,  whom  I  had  met  the  previous  sum- 
mer, when  he  had  come  to  Moscow  from  Novorossisk,  where 
he  had  started  an  import  and  export  business  between  that  port 
and  Marseilles.  He  had  been  arrested  on  his  third  trip  to 
Moscow  to  sign  a  contract  with  the  Supreme  Economic  Coun- 
cil for  the  importation  of  general  merchandise.  His  prin- 
cipals in  France  were  unaware  of  his  predicament,  he  had 
been  in  prison  five  weeks,  without  peredachas,  without  the  pos- 
sibility of  communicating  with  his  friends  in  Novorossisk,  and 
he  was  in  wretched  physical  condition,  but  like  a  true  French- 
man, he  did  not  fail  to  apologize  for  his  straggly  beard  and  his 
collarless  state.  I  also  talked  to  a  young  Swiss  boy,  a  Com- 
munist, who  had  no  idea  why  he  had  been  arrested,  and  a  Ger- 
man Red  Cross  officer,  who  had  been  held  in  another  prison 
for  several  months. 

Finally,  after  what  seemed  to  me  an  endless  wait,  my  name 
was  called,  and  I  was  taken  by  an  armed  guard  to  the  Ameri- 
can Bureau,  where,  instead  of  judges,  I  found  Kovalski  wait- 
ing for  me  with  the  papers  which  had  been  taken  from  me  the 
night  before.  He  asked  me  several  questions  about  them, 
which  I  was  able  to  answer  satisfactorily,  but  he  was  evidently 
suspicious  of  some  cross-stitch  patterns  I  had  drawn  for  my 
lace  work.  Finally  he  was  convinced  that  they  were  not  ci- 
phers, and  then  he  told  me  that  my  release  had  been  decided  on, 
at  the  same  time  handing  me  an  insignificant  looking  bit  of 
paper,  very  like  a  department  store  check,  but  which  was  a 
written  order  for  the  release  of  ''Citizeness  Garrison,  Margar- 
ita Bernardovna,  Number  2961."  He  told  me  that  Senator 
France  had  delayed  his  departure  in  order  to  accompany  me 
and  that  I  was  to  leave  with  him  for  Riga  that  evening  if  an 
automobile  could  be  procured  to  take  me  to  the  station. 

In  a  few  minutes  my  former  examiner,  Moghilevski,  came 
in  to  say  good-bye,  telling  me  at  the  same  time  that  all  other 


306  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

Americans  would  be  released  within  a  few  days,  but  that  as 
Senator  France  had  been  interested  in  my  case,  and  had  shown 
himself  most  sympathetic  to  the  Soviet  Government,  I  would 
be  permitted  to  leave  with  him  in  advance  of  the  others. 

"We  have  been  enemies,  it  is  true,"  he  said,  "but  it  was, 
as  you  realize,  part  of  a  big  game.  I  hope  that  you  feel  that 
it  was  nothing  personal  and  that  some  time,  under  happier 
auspices,  you  will  come  back  to  Russia." 

I  assured  him  that  I  felt  the  same  way,  which  was  quite 
true,  and  added  that  I  sincerely  hoped  I  would  come  back 
under  different  conditions.  It  was  rather  amusing,  I  reflected, 
how  the  same  expression  could  be  used  with  equal  sincerity 
by  two  individuals  with  radically  different  points  of  view,  but 
I  merely  smiled,  shook  hands  and  said  good-bye.  Kovalski 
told  me  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  them  to  deliver  my 
baggage,  money  and  valuables  at  such  short  notice,  but  that 
they  would  be  sent  to  me  at  Riga.  I  told  him  that  I  wished 
the  money  sent  to  the  Political  Red  Cross  for  the  relief  of 
Russian  prisoners,  and  signed  a  transfer,  which  he  promised 
to  deliver  to  the  office  of  the  Red  Cross.  Then  I  was  taken 
back  to  the  general  waiting  room,  where  I  spent  an  anxious 
hour  or  so,  for  it  was  growing  perilously  near  train  time. 
Finally  a  soldier  came  to  take  me  to  a  waiting  automobile,  in 
which  I  was  whirled  to  the  station,  at  the  rate  of  about  sixty 
miles  an  hour,  arriving  just  seven  minutes  before  the  depar- 
ture of  the  train. 

The  platform  was  filled  with  a  hustling,  jostling  crowd 
of  homegoing  Letts,  busy  porters  carrying  trunks  and  boxes, 
preoccupied  couriers  with  despatch  cases,  distinguished  foreign 
visitors  saying  good-bye  to  commissars,  Soviet  officials,  going 
abroad  on  various  missions.  I  saw  the  tall  figure  of  Senator 
France,  which  was  easily  distinguishable  among  them,  and  in 
a  few  seconds  I  was  beside  him.  A  few  minutes  later  I  was 
installed  in  a  sleeping  compartment,  watching  the  receding 
station  platform. 

We  had  a  comfortable,  though  uneventful  trip  to  Riga, 
arriving  on  the  morning  of  the  second  day.  The  only  incident 
that  disturbed  the  composure  of  the  Senator  and  myself  was 


RELEASE  NUMBER  2961  307 

at  the  border,  where  we  were  held  for  about  six  hours  for  no 
apparent  reason.  I  had  known  of  so  many  instances  where 
persons,  who  had  been  permitted  to  leave  Moscow  were  re- 
arrested on  the  frontier  that  I  did  not  quite  believe  in  my 
good  fortune  until  I  was  actually  on  Latvian  soil. 

My  first  act  after  greeting  the  friends  who  came  to  meet 
me  at  Riga  was  to  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  a  tub  bath  for  the 
first  time  in  nearly  a  year,  my  second  was  to  buy  a  Rigan  out- 
fit to  replace  the  costume  I  had  worn  during  my  entire  term 
of  imprisonment,  an  exceedingly  dirty  suit  of  khaki  cloth,  a 
man's  pongee  shirt,  a  hat  made  in  prison  from  the  tail  of  the 
same  shirt,  and  a  pair  of  men's  shoes  sent  me  by  the  Czecho- 
slovak Red  Cross.  Then  I  had  a  real  dinner.  I  sta3^ed  in 
Riga  for  several  days,  after  which  the  Senator  and  I  left  for 
Berlin,  where  I  met  many  friends,  among  them  Captain  Coop- 
er who  had  come  from  Warsaw  to  meet  me.  Ever  since  his 
escape  from  Russia  in  April  he  had  been  working  unceasingly 
for  my  release.  The  best  news  I  had  in  Riga  was  the  confir- 
mation of  what  I  had  already  heard  from  Moghilevski :  that 
owing  to  the  Soviet  Government's  acceptance  of  the  terms  of 
Mr.  Hoover's  offer  all  the  American  prisoners  would  probably 
be  in  Riga  within  a  week  or  ten  days.  In  Riga  I  also  saw 
lists  of  the  packages  containing  food,  clothing  and  toilet  ar- 
ticles, which  had  been  sent  me  during  my  imprisonment,  none 
of  which  had  ever  reached  me. 

In  the  few  quiet  moments  I  was  able  to  snatch  between 
calls,  writing  newspaper  articles,  and  trips  to  the  shops  to  re- 
plenish my  scanty  wardrobe,  I  looked  back  on  the  events  of 
the  past  eighteen  months,  during  which  I  had  lived  on  black 
bread  and  kasha.  From  a  material  standpoint  I  had  suffered, 
it  was  true,  but  I  felt  that  I  had  gained  immeasurably  from 
another  point  of  view.  I  knew  the  heart  of  Russia,  and  no 
one  in  these  troublous  times  of  transition  can  ever  know  it 
unless  he  lives  with  the  Russian  people  both  in  and  out  of 
prison.  I  had  gained  a  just  perspective,  and  I  felt  that  I 
understood  all  that  is  good  and  all  that  is  bad,  and  all  that  is 
historically  inevitable  in  the  great  upheaval  which  is,  in  spite 
of  everything,  modernizing  Russia. 


AFTERWORD 

Though  this  is  an  afterword,  it  is  by  no  means  an  after- 
thought. It  is  rather  a  summary  of  the  thoughts  that  have 
been  running  through  my  mind  while  I  have  been  setting  down 
what  I  saw  and  heard  during  eighteen  months  in  Soviet  Russia, 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  world  at  large  has  overlooked  an 
all-important  fact  in  considering  the  Russian  Revolution — its 
beginning,  its  present  form  and  its  development  are  following 
a  logical  historical,  evolutionary  process.  The  great  powers 
of  the  world  have  done  all  that  they  possibly  could  to  hinder 
this  evolution  by  blockades,  intervention  and  intrigue.  They 
have  never  done  the  obvious  thing  as  far  as  Russia's  internal 
politics  are  concerned,  which  is  to  let  them  alone.  By  isolating 
Russia  they  have  brought  about  the  very  thing  they  were 
trying  to  prevent,  a  prolongation  of  the  Communist  dictator- 
ship and  postponement  of  the  process  of  evolution. 

No  one  can  understand  the  situation  in  Russia  without 
realizing  what  is  actually  the  case,  that  two  revolutions  have 
taken  place  in  that  country.  In  the  towns  a  small  minority, 
less  than  ten  per  cent,  in  all  of  the  population,  have  made  a 
proletarian  revolution,  conducted  by  the  class  conscious  work- 
ers with  Karl  Marx  as  their  God,  and  Lenin  as  his  prophet. 
The  remaining  ninety  per  cent,  have  made  an  agrarian  revolu- 
tion, they  have  done  away  with  the  feudal  system  and  have 
gained  possession  of  the  land.  The  vast  majority  of  them  are 
illiterate,  haunted  by  the  traditions  of  serfdom,  suffering  from 
the  shock  of  seven  years  of  war,  blockade,  and  internal  dis- 
order, with  a  capacity  for  endurance  that  is  utterly  incompre- 
hensible to  Western  minds,  utterly  devoid  of  political  opinions, 
patriotism,  or  a  sense  of  racial  unity.  Ask  the  average  Rus- 
sian peasant  what  he  is.  He  will  answer — not  that  he  is  a 
Russian,  not  that  he  belongs  to  any  political  party,  but  simply 
that  he  is  a  person — Ya  chelovyek.     He  is  inherently  op- 

308 


AFTERWORD  309 

posed  to  Communism,  for  as  a  matter  of  fact  he  knew  some- 
thing of  a  form  of  village  Communism  under  the  Czar.  It 
meant  that  the  land  belonged  to  the  village,  not  to  him,  and 
it  was  parcelled  out  to  him  by  the  village  Mir  or  Zemstvo 
Council.  Now  he  has  his  land,  and  he  intends  to  keep  it. 
Bolshevism  is  bad,  because  the  Bolsheviks  make  requisitions; 
they  shut  up  the  cooperatives ;  he  can  no  longer  get  tea,  sugar, 
salt,  boots  and  clothes,  seeds  and  farm  implements;  but  Czar- 
ism  was  worse,  because  then  he  did  not  have  the  land.  Of 
the  two  extremes,  therefore,  he  prefers  Bolshevism  to  Czarism. 
Discontent  with  existing  conditions  will  drive  him  to  sporadic 
revolt,  but  as  long  as  he  is  left  alone  and  has  a  voice  in  his 
village  Soviet,  he  does  not  care  what  kind  of  central  govern- 
ment there  is  in  Moscow.  It  is  despotic,  yes,  but  then  he  has 
always  been  accustomed  to  some  form  of  despotism.  If  he 
cherishes  any  personal  resentment  against  the  government  it 
is  because  he  believes  it  is  a  government  of  and  by  the  Jews. 
The  dominant  political  factor  in  Russia  today  is  fear  of  anar- 
chy. Few  of  the  peasant  uprisings  that  have  taken  place  in 
Russia  or  Siberia  within  the  past  few  years  have  been  the 
result  of  any  concerted  political  movement,  but  rather  of  local 
conditions. 

The  more  intelligent  of  the  peasants  are  beginning  to  grope 
in  a  vague  way  towards  the  idea  of  a  representative  form  of 
government.  They  realize  dimly  that  they  are  the  real  pro- 
letariat of  Russia,  that  they  are  represented  in  the  proportion 
of  one  to  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  thousand  in  the  All 
Russian  Council  of  Soviets,  while  the  town  proletariat  is  rep- 
resented by  one  to  twenty-five  thousand.  This,  to  them  is 
radically  wrong — some  day  it  must  all  be  changed.  The 
Social  Revolutionaries  are  preaching  this  doctrine,  and  winning 
converts  through  the  Peasant  Unions,  but  so  far  they  have 
not  been  able  to  organize  the  vast  masses  of  the  peasant  pop- 
ulation, partly  through  the  ban  on  free  press,  free  speech,  and 
the  all  powerful  police  organization  of  the  Communists,  partly 
owing  to  the  apathy  and  inertia  of  the  peasants  themselves,  and 
their  lack  of  class  solidarity. 

Universal  education,  particularly  the  abolition  of  illiteracy 


310  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

in  the  Red  Army,  will  eventually  act  as  a  boomerang  against 
the  Bolshevist  Government  by  teaching  the  peasants  to  think 
for  themselves,  but  this  will  be  a  long  and  a  tedious  process. 
Until  it  is  completed  there  will  be  no  possibility  of  establishing 
the  government  which  I  believe  to  be  best  suited  to  the  needs 
of  Russia — a  democratic  federation  of  sovereign  states,  held 
together  by  a  national  assembly,  elected  by  universal  suffrage, 
on  the  principle  of  direct  representation.  This  state  will  prob- 
ably have  many  socialistic  features,  comprising  the  socializa- 
tion of  key  industries  and  a  widespread  cooperative  system. 
There  will  be  a  uniform  system  of  free  education  and  social 
maintenance,  and  there  will  be  laws  restraining  the  concentra- 
tion of  capital  in  the  hands  of  a  few  individuals,  but  the  rights 
of  private  property  will  be  respected. 

Meanwhile  Russia  will,  for  some  time,  necessarily  be  a 
prey  to  minority  government.  The  question  is,  whether  it  is 
better  to  have  the  country  ruled  by  a  Communist  or  a  Reac- 
tionary oligarchy.  Of  the  two  evils  I  believe  the  former  is 
the  lesser  one.  The  Communists,  numbering  perhaps  three 
quarters  of  a  million  in  all,  of  whom  probably  ten  per  cent,  are 
absolutely  sincere  and  devoted  Marxists,  are  in  complete  con- 
trol of  the  governmental  apparatus,  and  if  they  were  swept 
away  tomorrow  there  is  no  party  which  is  prepared  to  take 
their  place.  They  exercise  iron  discipline  in  a  country  where 
discipline  is  an  unknown  quantity.  Backed  by  the  best  or- 
ganized secret  police  and  the  best  propaganda  service  in  the 
world,  they  have  suppressed  all  expression  of  free  opinion, 
and  legalized  party  opposition. 

The  leaders  of  the  Communist  party  are  mostly  men  who 
have  lived  a  large  part  of  their  lives  in  Western  Europe  or 
America  and  have  studied  the  organization  of  party  machines 
in  all  countries.  They  have  always  known  what  they  wanted 
and  have  had  a  program  when  other  parties  were  in  a  chaotic 
condition.  Their  big  men  are  undoubtedly  idealists,  working 
with  altruistic  aims  for  what  they  believe  to  be  the  good  of 
humanity,  but  on  the  Jesuitic  principle  that  the  end  justifies 
the  means,  and  in  accord  with  Marxian  philosophy  which  re- 
jects all  bourgeois  ethics. 


AFTERWORD  311 

It  must  be  remembered  that  these  are  men  who  all  their 
lives  have  been  hounded  and  persecuted,  and  they  have,  in 
many  respects,  distorted  values.  They  are  the  exponents  of 
the  second  stage  of  every  revolution.  First  must  come  the 
work  of  preparation.  The  men  and  women  who  prepared 
the  Revolution  have  long  since  been  swept  away  and  are  living 
in  exile  or  confined  in  Russian  prisons.  The  men  who  occupy 
the  center  of  the  stage  today  are  the  iconoclasts,  whose  work 
is  to  destroy,  the  new  broom  that  sweeps  clean,  the  scalpels 
that  have  cut  deep  into  the  old  order  and  removed  the  sound 
flesh  in  order  to  get  at  the  source  of  the  disease.  The  men 
who  will  come  next  will  be  the  reconstructionists,  and  little  by 
little,  the  iconoclasts  will  give  place  to  them.  Until  this  comes' 
about  by  a  process  that  is  historically  inevitable,  there  will  be 
no  government  in  Russia  any  better  than  the  present  one. 

The  universal  corruption,  the  many  acts  of  cruelty  and  the 
parasitic  growth  of  the  new  bourgeoisie  since  the  beginning 
of  the  Revolution  are  not  all  to  be  laid  at  the  door  of  the  Com- 
munist party.  They  are  partly  due  to  the  inheritance  of  Czar- 
ism,  partly  to  the  tendency  of  all  undesirable  elements  to  come 
to  the  surface  in  times  of  universal  demoralization  and  revolu- 
tion. 

Russia  is  essentially  an  agrarian  country;  its  future  pros- 
perity will  be  dependent  on  the  good-will  and  cooperation  of 
the  mass  of  peasants  who  form  the  agrarian  population.  In 
order  to  reconcile  the  two  opposing  elements  of  town  and  coun- 
try and  to  put  the  nation  on  a  sound  social  and  economic  basis, 
it  will  be  necessary  for  the  Revolution  to  go  back  many  steps 
over  the  road  it  has  travelled.  That  many  of  the  Communist 
leaders  recognize  this  fact  is  shown  by  the  development  of  dis- 
tinct Right  and  Left  wings,  within  the  party,  by  the  tendency 
against  centralization  and  bureaucratism  and  by  the  opportun- 
ist policy  of  Lenin,  who  in  an  effort  to  preserve  the  political 
balance  of  power  is  coquetting  with  the  bourgeoisie  and  fight- 
ing the  other  socialist  parties. 

The  dictatorship  of  the  Communist  party  has  been  con- 
tinuously strengthened  during  the  past  four  years  by  the  many 
attempts  at  intervention.     I  cannot  too  strongly  emphasize 


312  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

the  fact  which  I  have  tried  to  bring  out  in  the  preceding  pages, 
that  the  men  and  women  of  varying  poHtical  opinions,  who 
have  quietly  carried  on  in  Russia  throughout  the  Revolution, 
are,  for  the  great  majority,  of  the  opinion  that  the  ultimate 
form  of  government  in  Russia  must  be  worked  out  by  a  grad- 
ual process  of  evolution.  They  are  the  people  who  have  kept 
the  schools  and  universities  going,  furnished  the  bulk  of  offi- 
cers for  the  Red  Army  and  of  physicians  for  the  public  health 
service,  the  agricultural  experts  who  have  helped  to  avert  a 
still  more  ghastly  famine,  the  factory  experts  who  have  kept 
alive  what  is  left  of  Russia's  industries,  the  engineers  who 
are  running  the  mines  and  the  railroads.  They  have  developed 
a  new  nationalism  based  on  real  patriotism,  a  quality  which 
hitherto  has  never  existed  in  Russia,  and  they  are  opposed  to 
intervention  in  any  form  or  to  the  forcible  overthrow  of  the 
Soviet  Government. 

It  has  been  said  that  aid  to  Russia  through  Soviet  con- 
trolled institutions  will  have  the  effect  of  strengthening  the 
Communist  party  by  making  the  people  believe  they  owe  the 
improvement  in  conditions  to  the  present  regime.  The  effect 
in  my  opinion,  will  be  just  the  opposite.  Famine  relief  and 
contact  with  the  outside  world  will  strengthen  the  morale  of 
the  Russian  people  and  give  the  few  men  who  are  capable  of 
undertaking  opposition  party  activities  sound  human  material 
to  work  on.  At  the  same  time  it  will  help  to  accelerate  the 
changes  which  are  taking  place  within  the  Communist  organi- 
zation itself  and  will  force  the  Bolsheviks  to  undo  with  their 
own  hands,  much  of  what  they  have  already  done. 

So  much  for  the  political  factors  which  are  making  for 
evolutionary  changes,  and  now  for  the  economic  factors  which 
are  for  the  present,  the  more  important  of  the  two. 

Inheriting  an  unsound  economic  fabric,  weakened  by  the 
Great  War,  the  civil  war  and  the  blockade,  hampered  by  em- 
bryonic industrial  and  trades  union  development  and  a  back- 
ward agrarian  population,  the  Communists  have  completed 
the  ruin  already  begun,  by  the  introduction  of  an  economic 
system  which,  even  if  it  is  admitted  that  it  is  practicable,  as  the 
basis  on  which  to  run  a  prosperous  government,  presupposes 


AFTERWORD  313 

a  highly  developed  industrial  organization  and  a  large  class- 
conscious  mass  of  industrial  workers.  Even  under  highly 
favorable  conditions  they  could  never  have  succeeded,  in  my 
opinion,  in  establishing  a  sound  Communistic  state  in  Russia, 
though  their  tremendous  dynamic  energy  and  their  remarkable 
educational  propaganda  might  have  produced  somewhat  bet- 
ter results. 

No  private  individual  or  corporations  can  hope  to  derive 
immediate  profit  from  trade  with  Soviet  Russia,  but  there  is 
danger  that  if  the  great  powers  do  not  come  to  the  aid  of  Rus- 
sia the  present  economic  collapse  will  be  followed  by  a  collapse 
of  the  entire  political  and  social  system  with  a  tendency  to 
revert  to  utter  anarchy.  The  good  features  of  the  Soviet  Gov- 
ernment will  be  swept  away  with  the  bad  and  Russia  will  lapse 
into  barbarism.  Personally  I  believe  that  state  capitalism  will 
be  the  next  development  in  Russia.  The  new  decrees,  while 
permitting  the  development  of  private  capital,  still  uphold  the 
principle  of  state  ownership;  therefore,  the  only  adequate  pro- 
tection for  foreign  interests  doing  business  in  Russia  will  be 
afforded  by  a  de  facto  recognition  by  all  the  great  powers,  the 
appointment  of  general  commercial  agents  with  consular 
powers  and  the  guaranteeing  against  loss  of  all  interests  un- 
dertaking trade  with,  or  internal  development  in  Russia,  by 
means  of  national  or  international  organizations  under  the 
official  protection  of  a  single  government  or  an  aggregation  of 
governments. 

Frankly,  I  have  no  idea  as  to  how  this  can  be  brought  about, 
but  it  can  and  must  be  done  if  the  world  is  ever  to  get  out  of 
the  present  tangle.  The  Russian  Government  has  not  the 
money  to  furnish  large  credits ;  no  satisfactory  working  basis 
has  as  yet  been  found  for  concessions ;  the  supply  of  raw  mate- 
rial for  exchange  is  insignificant.  Obviously  the  first  thing  to 
do  is  to  devise  some  scheme  for  the  reconstruction  of  Russia's 
transportation  system,  for  without  the  railroads  nothing  can 
be  done.  Eventually  it  is  impossible  that  some  profitable  way 
of  doing  business  with  a  hundred  and  fifty  million  people  liv- 
ing in  a  country  which  is  probably  richer  in  natural  resources 
than  any  country  in  the  world,  and  which  needs  everything 


314  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

from  locomotives  to  shoe  strings,  cannot  be  found.  The  soon- 
er this  is  done  the  sooner  will  the  inevitable  political  readjust- 
ment between  the  agrarian  and  proletarian  revolutions  be  made 
in  Russia. 

From  an  international  standpoint  immediate  foreign  aid  to 
Russia  is  even  of  greater  importance.  Such  action  by  all  the 
great  powers  will  help  to  prevent  a  world  economic  crisis  by 
opening  new  markets ;  it  will  assist  in  normalizing  labcr  con- 
ditions and  allaying  the  present  industrial  and  social  unrest, 
and  it  will  do  away  with  many  of  the  delusions  as  to  condi- 
tions in  Russia,  which  have  been  fostered  in  the  minds  of  the 
working  class  the  world  over  by  Communist  propaganda  to 
which  Russian  isolation  has  been  a  powerful  ally.  If  the  Bol- 
sheviks succeed  in  building  up  their  social,  political  and  eco- 
nomic fabric,  it  will  be,  even  with  every  outside  assistance,  a 
lengthy  process,  to  be  achieved  only  at  the  price  of  the  sacri- 
fice of  many  basic  principles.  Such  a  process  of  evolution  is 
not  likely  to  put  strong  arguments  in  the  hands  of  the  advo- 
cates of  world  revolution. 

For  the  present,  however,  it  is  impossible  to  accord  dip- 
lomatic recognition  to  a  government  which  has,  as  its  ac- 
knowledged object,  the  promotion  of  armed  revolution  in  the 
countries  with  which  it  seeks  to  make  diplomatic  treaties.  The 
promises  of  the  Soviet  Government  in  this  respect  are  not 
worth  the  paper  they  are  written  on,  as  long  as  the  Central 
Committee  of  the  Third  International  guides  the  world  revo- 
lution from  Moscow. 

There  is  a  strong  tendency  among  the  radicals  in  all  coun- 
tries to  break  away  from  the  dictation  of  Moscow.  There 
were  many  quarrels  and  bickerings  at  this  year's  meeting  of 
the  Third  International.  The  differences  among  the  German 
and  Italian  Communists  were  thoroughly  aired  to  the  public, 
and  there  was  a  no  less  sturdy  tendency  towards  independence 
in  the  matter  of  tactics  among  various  other  national  groups, 
such  as  the  Jewish  Bundists,  the  Finnish  Communists,  the 
British,  the  French  and  Americans.  These  differences  were 
still  more  marked  in  the  congress  of  the  Red  Trades  Union 
International,  which  was  only  just  able  to  save  its  face  and 


AFTERWORD  315 

preserve  a  semblance  of  unity.  All  these  indications  point  to 
a  weakening  of  the  power  of  Moscow  in  the  international  rev- 
olutionary movement.  It  is  possible  in  the  not  too  distant  fu- 
ture that  the  Russian  Communists  will  be  forced  by  radical 
opinion  in  other  countries  to  give  up  their  idea  of  a  world 
propaganda  directed  from  the  Kremlin. 

De  facto  recognition  and  trade  with  Russia  will  give 
an  opportunity  to  prove  the  sincerity  of  the  moderate  Com- 
munists who  claim  that  their  world  propaganda  is  largely  a 
measure  of  self  defense  against  the  bourgeois  governments 
who  are  bent  on  bringing  about  an  internal  economic,  social  and 
political  collapse  in  Russia — that,  given  peace  and  a  chance 
for  peaceful  development,  they  are  willing  to  stop  stirring  up 
trouble  in  Asia,  South  America,  Europe  and  the  United  States. 

We  may  as  well  recognize  the  fact  that  the  Germans  will 
eventually  dominate  Russia  commercially  and  perhaps  eco- 
nomically. At  present  in  their  desperate  financial  situation 
German  business  men  are  willing  to  take  chances  and  embark 
on  enterprises  which  the  large  interests  in  other  countries  are 
unwilling  to  undertake.  They  have  nothing  to  lose  and  every- 
thing to  gain  from  the  exploitation  of  Russia  and  they  can 
afford  to  wait  for  returns. 

But  there  is  a  political  side  to  the  situation.  Things  may 
not  remain  as  they  are  in  Germany.  If  the  country  swings 
more  to  the  right,  there  will  be  a  renascence  of  militarism, 
the  desire  for  revenge  on  England,  the  old  Berlin-to-Bagdad 
dream.  I  have  told  how  I  saw  in  Russia  more  than  a  year 
ago  evidences  that  many  Germans  have  not  altogether  aban- 
doned it.  There  will  be  an  attempt  at  political  domination 
with  a  view  to  utilizing  the  vast  man  power  and  natural  re- 
sources of  Russia  to  bring  about  the  "Day,"  which  many 
Germans  regard  as  only  postponed  for  a  matter  of  ten  years 
or  so. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  Germany  ever  goes  Red  the  Ger- 
mans will  practice  Communism  with  deadly  efficiency.  It  will 
be  quite  a  different  matter  from  Communism  in  Russia  and 
they  will  introduce  their  brand  into  that  country. 

The  English  think  they  have  found  an  antidote  to  all  this, 


316  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

and  to  the  old  bugbear  of  Russian  ascendency  in  Asia,  which 
might  threaten  their  colonial  possessions  and  their  political 
supremacy  on  that  continent,  in  their  policy  of  Balkanizing 
Russia.  The  trend  of  British  statesmanship  is  to  permanently 
weaken  the  former  Russian  Empire  by  dividing  it  into  a  num- 
ber of  relatively  small  independent  states,  which  will  be  easier 
to  exploit  commercially  and  politically.  That  is  the  meaning 
of  their  support  of  various  efforts  at  intervention,  which  has 
always  been  withdrawn  at  the  critical  moment.  The  British 
do  not  want  any  side  to  come  out  on  top.  The  French  are 
only  looking  for  one  thing  in  Russia — gold. 

What  then  should  be  the  policy  of  the  United  States?  We 
distinctly  want  a  strong  and  a  united  Russia.  The  United 
States  is  the  only  country  which  can  look  at  the  Russian  ques- 
tion dispassionately  at  the  present  time.  It  has  no  political 
axe  to  grind  in  Europe,  no  need  to  exploit  the  natural  resources 
of  Russia,  for  its  own  are  just  as  great.  It  needs  new  markets 
and  new  routes  of  trade,  orders  for  its  idle  factories,  cargoes 
for  its  great  fleet  of  rusting  ships. 

The  whole  matter  may  be  summed  up  as  follows :  We  may 
not  like  the  Soviet  Government,  but  it  is  a  real  government. 
To  refuse  to  help  and  continue  to  isolate  Russia  will  have  the 
effect  of  completing  the  economic  ruin  of  the  country,  with  the 
consequent  reaction  upon  world  economics,  of  strengthening 
the  political  dictatorship  of  the  Communist  party,  pushing  them 
still  further  in  their  tactical  program  of  promoting  world  rev- 
olution, and  perhaps  of  finally  driving  them  in  desperation  to 
military  aggression.  The  eventual  outcome  will  be  anarchy 
or  possibly  a  reaction  far  more  bloody  and  far  more  terrible 
than  the  Communist  regime.  The  only  way  to  bring  about  a 
government  in  Russia  which  will  represent  the  will  of  the  great 
mass  of  the  people  is  to  give  them  a  chance  to  develop  the 
moral  force  to  express  that  will  in  action.  This  can  only  be 
done  by  giving  them  peace  and  food.  It  is  up  to  the  Ameri- 
can people  to  give  them  that  chance.  Therefore  I  believe  that 
our  only  sane  policy  from  the  political  and  the  economic  as 
well  as  from  the  humanitarian  standpoint  is  cooperation  to 
the  fullest  possible  extent  with  the  Soviet  Government. 


APPENDIX 

THE  RUSSIAN  SOCIALIST  FEDERAL  SOVIET  REPUBLIC 

The  sovereign  governing  authority  is  the  All  Russian  Con- 
gress of  Soviets,  consisting  of  representatives  of  Town  So- 
viets and  of  the  provincial  congresses  of  Soviets.  The  for- 
mer are  represented  in  the  proportion  of  one  per  twenty-five 
thousand  electors,  the  latter  one  per  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  thousand  inhabitants.  The  All  Russian  Congress  meets 
twice  a  year  and  appoints  a  Central  Executive  Committee  of 
up  to  two  hundred  members.  The  Central  Executive  Commit- 
tee is  a  continuous  body  and  appoints  the  Council  of  People's 
Commissaries,  which  is  the  principal  governing  authority. 

The  President  of  the  All  Russian  Congress  of  Soviets  is 
M.  Kalenin.  Nikolai  Lenin  (Ulianov)  is  Chairman  of  the 
Central  Executive  Committee  and  Ex  Officio  of  the  Council 
of  the  People's  Commissaries. 

The  People's  Commissariats,  sixteen  in  number,  with  the 
Commissars  holding  office  in  August  of  this  year,  are  as  fol- 
lows: 

COUNCIL  OF  people's  COMMISSARS 

People's  Commis-      Assistant  People's 
Commissariat  sary  Commissars 

1.  War L.  D.  Trotzki  Sklyanski 

2.  Internal  Affairs F.  E.  Djerzhinski  M.  F.  Vladimirski 

3.  Justice D.  I.  Kurski  Not  known 

4.  Ways   and    Communica-  J  V.  M.  Sverdlov 

t'«"s F.  G.  Djerzhmski      |  Borisov 

5.  Finance N.  M.  Krestinski        S.  E.  Chutskaev 

6.  Education A.  V.  Lunacharski     M.  N.  Pokrovski 

7.  Posts  and  Telegraphs. . .     A.  M.  Lyubovich        Not  known 

(Acting) 

8.  Public  Health M.  A.  Semashko        Z.  P.  Soloviev 

9.  State    Control     (Work- 

ers' and  Peasants'  Con- 
trol)       I.  V.  Stalin  A.  V.  Avanesov 

317 


318 


MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 


COUNCIL  OF  PEOPLE  S  COMMISSARS 


10. 


II. 
12. 

13. 
14. 

IS- 

16. 


People's  Comtnis- 
Commissariat  sary 

Nationalities  (Non-Rus- 
sian   Nationalities    of 

Russia)  I.  V.  Stalin 

Agricultural A.  P.  Sereda 

Labor  and  Social  Wel- 
fare   V.V.Schmidt 

Foreign  Afifairs G.  V.  Chicherin 

Food   A.  D.  Tsyuryupa 

Foreign  Trade l.  B.  Krassin 

Supreme  Council  of  Peo- 
ple's Economy Bogdanov 


Assistant  People's 
Commissars 


N.  Narimanov 
N.  N.  Osinsky 

A.  N.  Vinokurov 
L.  M.  Karakhan 
N.  P.  Vryukhanov 


{Yazikov 
A.  M.  Lezhava 

V.  P.  Milyutin 
G.  I.  Lomov 


{ 


Both  the  members  of  the  Central  Executive  Committee 
and  the  People's  Commissars  are  elected  for  three  months, 
but  the  People's  Commissars  can  be  recalled  or  superseded  at 
any  time  by  the  Central  Executive  Committee. 

The  local  Soviets,  which  constitute  the  basic  units  of  the 
whole  system  and  are  at  the  same  time  the  organs  of  local 
government,  are  grouped  according  to  successive  areas  of  ad- 
ministration. 

1.  Town  Soviets  of  one  per  one  thousand  inhabitants  elected  by 
factories,  wards,  trades  unions  and  parties. 

2.  Village  Soviets  of  one  per  one  hundred  inhabitants  which  com- 
bine to  form  district  (Volost)  and  County  (Uyezd)  congresses 
of  Soviets  on  a  basis  of  one  per  one  thousand  inhabitants. 

3.  Provincial  (Gubernia)  or  Regional  (Oblast)  Congresses  of 
Soviets,  elected  by  both  town  and  country  Soviets. 

The  Soviet  Republic  at  present  includes  thirty-nine  prov- 
inces, of  which  nineteen  are  classed  as  Autonomous  Federated 
Republics  with  complete  freedom  in  the  matter  of  local  self- 
government.  The  largest  of  these  is  the  Ukrainian  Republic 
with  Kharkov  as  its  capital.  Rakovski  is  Chairman  of  the 
Central  Executive  Committee  of  the  Ukrainian  Republic.  The 
next  most  important  is  the  Tartar  Republic  with  Kazan  as  its 
capital. 

Electoral  rights  in  Russia  are  extended  to  all  persons  over 
eighteen  who  "earn  a  living  by  productive  work  or  by  work 
of  social  usefulness."     No  distinction  is  made  between  Rus- 


APPENDIX  819 

sians  and  aliens;  excluded  are  "employers,  persons  living  on 
investments,  traders,  monks,  clergy,  members  of  the  former 
Russian  reigning  house,  officials  and  agents  of  the  police  forces 
of  the  old  regime,  lunatics,  minors  and  criminals."  Political 
parties  to  participate  in  elections  must  recognize  the  Soviet 
authority.  At  the  present  time  the  only  party  except  the  Com- 
munist party  which  nominates  candidates  is  the  Menshevik 
party. 

Economic:  By  the  constitution  of  the  Soviet  Republic 
private  property  in  land  is  declared  abolished,  all  land  being 
the  common  property  of  the  people.  Up  to  the  present  time, 
however,  nationalization  of  the  land  exists  only  in  principle, 
the  peasants  retaining  possession  of  the  land  distributed  to 
them  after  the  October  Revolution.  All  forests,  mines  and 
waters  of  national  importance  as  well  as  all  live  stock  and  fix- 
tures, model  estates  and  agricultural  concerns,  are  declared  na- 
tional property.  All  factories,  works,  mines,  railways  and 
other  means  of  production  and  transport  are  brought  under 
the  Commissariat  of  Factory  Control  and  the  Supreme  Eco- 
nomic Council  with  a  view  to  their  complete  trans ferance  to 
the  Soviet  Republic. 

The  Supreme  Economic  Council  is  the  controlling  authority 
in  production  and  distribution.  Its  members  are  appointed  in 
agreement  with  the  All  Russian  Central  Council  of  Trades 
Unions.  Under  it  are  Central  Industrial  Departments  appoint- 
ed by  the  Supreme  Economic  Council  in  agreement  with  the 
Central  Committees  of  the  corresponding  trades  unions.  Lo- 
cal organizations  reproduce  the  same  scheme  with  District 
Economic  Councils  and  District  Economic  Departments.  The 
actual  management  of  the  factories  was  at  first  in  the  hands 
of  Boards,  but  these  have  since,  in  most  cases,  been  replaced 
by  one-man  management. 

Recent  decrees  have  licensed  the  leasing  of  factories  to 
private  individuals  or  cooperative  organizations.  The  govern- 
ment exacts  an  initial  license  fee  and  a  fixed  tax  on  the  gross 
receipts.  The  operators  must  conform  to  the  regulations  of 
the  Code  of  Labor  Laws. 

The  Commissariat  of  Labor,  which  is  controlled  by  the 


320  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

Trades  Unions,  fixes  wages  and  labor  conditions  under  the  gen- 
eral provisions  of  the  Code  of  Labor  Laws.  The  Code  of 
Labor  Laws  makes  work  compulsory  for  all  males  between 
the  ages  of  sixteen  and  fifty,  all  females  between  the  ages  of 
sixteen  and  forty,  except  for  medical  reasons.  Those  who  are 
ill  or  unemployed  are  entitled  to  remuneration  at  their  usual 
rate  of  wages  during  the  time  they  are  not  working. 

Education  is  compulsory  to  the  age  of  sixteen  or  until 
the  completion  of  what  would  in  America  be  considered  as 
high  school  education.  University  courses  and  special  tech- 
nical courses  are  open  to  all  who  desire  to  avail  themselves  of 
them.  University  students  receive  free  lodgings,  fixed  food 
rations  and  a  small  monthly  stipend. 

Justice  is  administered  in  Russia  by  means  of  the  People's 
Courts  and  Revolutionary  Tribunals.  Military  tribunals  and 
the  praesidium  of  the  Extraordinary  Commission  have  the 
power  to  judge  cases  of  espionage,  counter-revolution  and  de- 
sertion. 

SOCIALIST  PARTIES  IN  RUSSIA 

The  Bolsheviks  who,  since  the  dissolution  of  the  Constitu- 
ent Assembly  in  191 8  have  adopted  the  name  of  the  Communist 
party.  The  Communist  party  at  present  exercises  complete 
and  absolute  dictatorship  in  Russia.  The  programs  adopted  at 
its  congresses  constitute  the  government  programs,  and  it  is 
the  nerve  of  contact  between  the  government  and  the  Trades 
Unions,  Soviets,  and  other  organizations.  Membership  involv- 
ing as  it  does  both  burdens  and  powers  is  jealously  guarded. 
Access  is  not  made  easy,  discipline  is  severe  and  expulsion 
frequent.  The  present  membership  is  stated  to  be  seven  hun- 
dred thousand.  They  believe  in  the  dictatorship  of  a  prole- 
tarian minority  composed  of  class-conscious  workers.  They 
are  Marxists. 

The  Mensheviks  are  also  Marxists  like  the  Communists, 
but  they  differ  with  them  as  to  tactics,  being  in  favor  of  more 
power  for  the  Trades  Unions,  less  centralization  and  more 
freedom  of  speech  and  action.    They  are  a  small  group.    At 


APPENDIX  321 

present  they  are  virtually  disfranchised  and  their  leaders,  Mar- 
tov  and  Abramovitz,  are  in  exile. 

The  Left  Social  Revolutionaries  approach  the  Bolsheviks 
very  closely  in  their  belief  that  the  dictatorship  of  the  Prole- 
tariat must  be  imposed  by  force,  but  they  would  have  the  chief 
power  vested  in  the  Soviets  and  not  in  a  Centralized  govern- 
ment. They  believe  in  the  socialization  of  all  industries.  Their 
leaders  were  Kankov  and  Spiridonova.  At  present  their  status 
is  illegal  as  is  that  of 

The  Right  Social  Revolutionaries.  They  interpret  the 
word  "Proletariat"  in  its  broader  sense  to  include  all  workers, 
particularly  the  peasants.  They  believe  in  an  organization 
of  Trades  and  Peasants'  Unions  for  economic  and  industrial 
administration,  and  in  the  vesting  of  the  governing  authority 
in  a  national  assembly,  elected  by  universal  suffrage.  They 
favor  socialization  of  essential  industries,  extensive  develop- 
ment of  the  cooperative  system  and  the  licensing,  under  certain 
restraint,  of  private  enterprise  and  capital.  Their  leader, 
V.  Chernov,  is  in  exile,  their  prominent  members  are  all  in 
prison.  Numerically  the  Right  Social  Revolutionaries  are  the 
largest  of  the  opposition  Socialist  parties. 

Anarchists  recognize  no  form  of  government,  but  they  are 
divided  into  two  factions,  those  who  believe  that  Communism 
is  a  necessary  stage  in  the  development  of  Anarchism  and 
those  who  believe  in  putting  it  in  practice  by  force.  They  are 
especially  numerous  in  the  Ukraine  and  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Saratov.     Their  status  is  also  illegal. 

The  Poalei  Zion  and  the  Bund  are  both  Jewish  Social  Dem- 
ocratic or  Marxist  parties.  The  former  cooperate  with  the 
Bolsheviks,  the  latter  are  divided  into  two  factions  of  which 
one  is  in  thorough  sympathy  with  the  Soviet  Government, 

Non-Socialist  parties  are  non-existent  as  such.  A  few 
groups  of  Cadets  and  Constitutional  Democrats  still  exist,  but 
they  are  numerically  insignificant  and  politically  inactive. 
There  is  no  organized  Monarchist  party. 


322  MAROONED  IN  MOSCOW 

TRADES  UNIONS 

Trades  Unions,  though  nominally  independent,  are  part  of 
the  Soviet  State. 

Membership,  December,  1920,  5,222,000. 

The  structure  of  the  Russian  Unions  is  based  on  the  fac- 
tory as  a  unit.  Each  factory  has  its  committee,  and  this  is  the 
local  unit  of  the  union.  These  factory  or  shop  units  are  grouped 
into  industrial  Unions  with  the  factory  as  the  basis,  no  mat- 
ter what  a  man's  trade.  Entrance  fee,  half  day's  pay,  sub- 
scription two  per  cent,  of  the  pay.  Membership  is  virtually 
obligatory.    The  Unions  are  as  follows : 


I. 

Medical 

13- 

Printing 

2. 

Transport 

14. 

Paper 

3- 

Mines 

15. 

Food 

4- 

Wood 

16. 

Building 

5. 

Land 

17. 

Sugar 

6. 

Art 

18. 

Soviet  Institutions 

7. 

Public  feeding  and  housing 

19. 

Tobacco 

8. 

Leather 

20. 

Textile 

9- 

Metal  industries 

21. 

Chemical 

10, 

Communal  Services 

22, 

Clothing 

II. 

Education 

23- 

Finance  Department 

12. 

Postal  Services 

COOPERATIVES 

The  Russian  Cooperatives,  the  organs  of  distribution, 
work  under  State  Control.  Each  district  has  a  Cooperative 
Society,  "Soyous,"  on  which  state  or  local  authorities  are  rep- 
resented. The  franchise  is  identical  with  the  political  fran- 
chise. 

All  Cooperative  Societies  come  under  the  Control  of  the 
Centrosoyous,  which  in  1920  was  composed  of  ten  members 
appointed  by  the  government  and  eight  electoral  members. 

Shares  of  individual  members  of  the  old  cooperatives  have 
been  repaid  to  them,  the  value  being  insignificant,  however, 
owing  to  the  depreciated  currency.  Credit  Societies  are  under 
the  Nationalized  People's  Bank. 

Recent  legislation  has  restored  a  measure  of  independence 
to  the  cooperatives  by  permitting  them  to  deal  with  peasants 
on  an  exchange  basis  and  to  buy  and  sell  goods  at  fixed  prices. 


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